FAUST: 



A DRAMATIC POEM. 



GOETHE. 



TRANS j A.TED i:.TO ENGLISH PROSE, "WITH NOTES. ETC 



By A. HAY WARD, ESQ. 



SKCOITD WERTCAX FROM IIIE THIRD LO>'DOX EDITION. 



LOWELL: 

BIXBY A>TD TTHITIXG, 
1845. 



BOSTON: 
N'. DICKINSON, PEINTEK, 
WASHINGTON ST. 



LC Control Number 




tmp96 031597 



/sy 



ADVERTISEMENT 

TO THE 

AMERICAN EDITION. 



The American publisher of this work deems it hardly 
necessary to offer even a few words of explanation, in pre- 
senting to the public a prose translation of one of the 
productions of the celebrated Goethe. 

There have been published in England many transla- 
tions of Eaust ; but, it is believed, none retaining the rich- 
ness of the original so completely as that of Mr. Hay ward, 
and none so copious in notes, valuable to the general reader 
and peculiarly so to the admirers of Goethe. 

The English work, from which this is reprinted, has been 
very favorably noticed by the British periodical press, and 
comes to us with vouchers for its correctness and truth, of 
no common character ; the cost of it, however, was so high 
as to preclude an extensive sale, and it is hoped that the 
attempt to afford a well-executed American edition, at a 
fan price, considering the style hi which it is issued, may 
meet with encouragement from the readers of the great 
German poet in our country. 

It was suggested by some friends of the publisher, that a 
preface, by an American scholar, conversant with German 
literature, and introducing, as it were, this work to readers 



iv 



here, would be an addition to its value ; but. believing that 
such an introduction for the " Eaust of Goethe " is unnec- 
essary, and would be deemed almost superfluous, he issues 
the work, the first of the kind ever published at the Man- 
chester of America," with a confidence that its own merits 
will secure for it the consideration to which men of high 
literary merit have assured him this translation Is entitled. 

Lowell, Mass.. April 1840. 



ADVERTISEMENT 



TO THE 

THIKD EDITION, 



The difference between tins edition and the last consists 
in a few verbal alterations of the text, some slight additions 
to the notes, and the omission of every thing not required 
to illustrate the author's meaning or explain the original 
intention of this work : which was simply to clear up certain 
misconceptions regarding the poem, and cause it to be 
more studied and better understood. The subsequent sud- 
den and almost simultaneous appearance of seven or eight 
new translations, affords a fair presumption that the desired 
object has been at least partially attained ; and, from the 
circumstance of their being all in verse, it may be inferred 
that prose versions are rather favorable than unfavorable to 
metrical ones. The author of the most admired, Di\ Anster. 
lias generously given me the credit of encouraging him to 
the completion of his task, and this alone must be deemed 
no unimportant service to literature. 

1 1 King's Bench "Walk. Temple, 
December, 1838. 



PREFACE 



TO THE SECOND EDITION 



OF THE TRANSLATION. 



In this edition much of the matter has been rearranged, 
the Notes are augmented by about a third, and an Appen- 
dix, of some length, has been annexed. The translation 
itself was found to require only a few verbal corrections \ 
yet even as regards the translation, I lay the work before 
the public with much more confidence than formerly, both 
on account of the trying ordeal it has passed through, and 
the many advantages I have enjoyed in revising it. 

It is singular (and to the student of German literature at 
once cheering and delightful) to see the interest which 
Germans of the cultivated class take in the fame of their 
great authors, and most particularly of Goethe. They 
seem willing to undergo every sort of labor to convey to 
foreigners a just impression of hk excellence ; and many 
German gentlemen, personally unknown to me. have vol- 
untarily undertaken the irksome task of verifying the 
translation word for word by the original, and obligingly 
forwarded to me the results of the comparison. The ama- 
teurs of German literature in this country, also, partake 



viii 



of the same spirit of enthusiasm; and I have received many 
valuable suggestions in consequence> My German friends 
will find that I have retained a few expressions objected to 
by them, but they must do me the justice to remember 
that they are at least as likely to err from not knowing the 
full force of an English idiom, as I am from not knowing 
the full force of a German one. Another fertile source of 
improvement has been afforded me by the numerous critical 
notices, in English and foreign journals , of my work. 

Besides these advantages. I have recently paid another 
visit to Germany, during which I had the pleasure of talk- 
ing over the puzzling parts of the poem with some of the 
most eminent living writers and artists, and some of 
Goethe's most intimate friends and connections. Amongst 
those, for instance, whom I have to thank for the kindest 
and most nattering reception, are Tieck, von Chamisso,* 
Franz Horn, the Baron de la Motte Fouque, Dr. Hitzig.v 
fletzsch, and Madame de Goethe. M. Yarnhagen von 
Ense, and Dr. Eckermann, of Weimar, (names associated 
by more than one relation with Goethe's,) whom I unfortu- 
nately missed seeing, have each favored me with sugges- 
tions or notes. I think, therefore. I may now venture to 
say, that the notes to this edition contain the sum of all 
that can be asserted with confidence as to the allusions and 
passages which have been made the subject of controversy. 

As some of the notions hazarded in my original preface 
elicited a good deal of remark, I have left it pretty nearly 
as it stood, « — to prove to future readers that I was guilty of 
no extraordinary heresies. 

I have no desire to prolong the discussion as to the com- 
parative merit of prose and metrical translations : but. to 

*The real author of Peter Schlemil. most unaccountably attributed-, 
by the English translator, to De la Motte Fouque. 

f President of the Literary Society of Berlin^ 



ix 



prevent renewed misconstructions. I take this opportunity 
of briefly restating my views. 

Here (it may be said) is a poem, which, in addition to 
the exquisite charm of its Yersifieation, is supposed to 
abound in philosophical notions and practical maxims of 
life, and to have a great moral object in view. It is written 
in a language comparatively unfettered by rule, presenting 
great facilities for the composition of words, and. by reason 
of its ductile qualities, naturally, as it were, and idiomati- 
cally adapting itself to every variety of versification. The 
author is a man whose genius inclined (as his proud 
position authorized) him to employ the license thus enjoyed 
by the writers of his country to the full : and. in the compass 
of this single production, he has managed to introduce 
almost every conceivable description of metre and rhythm. 
The translator of such a work into English, a language 
strictly subjected to that literary legislation,"^ from which 
it is the present (perhaps idle) boast of Germany to be free, 
is obviously in this dilemma : he must sacrifice either metre 
or meaning ; and in a poem which it is not uncommon to 
hear referred to in evidence of the moral, metaphysical, or 
theological views of the author. — which, as already inti- 
mated, has exercised a great part of its widely-spread 
influence by qualities that have no more necessary con- 
nection with verse than prose. — it is certainly best to sacrifice 
metre. 

The dilemma was fairly stated in the " Edinburgh Review :' : 
— B "When people are once aware how very rare a thing 
a successful translation must ever be. from the nature of 
the case, they will be more disposed to admit the prudence 
of lessening the obstacles as much as possible. There will 
be no lack of difficulties to surmount, (of that the Trench 
school may rest assured. ) after removing out of the way 
every restraint that can be spared. If the very measure 



* Muhlenfel'a Lecture * 



X 



of the original can be preserved, the delight with which 
onr ear and imagination recognize its return, add incom- 
parably to the triumph and the effect. Many persons, 
however, are prepared to dispense with this condition, who, 
nevertheless, shrink from extending their indulgence to a 
dispensation from metre altogether. But it is really the 
same question which a -writer and his critics have to deter- 
mine in both cases. If the difficulty of the particular 
metre, or of metre generally, can be mastered, without 
sacrificing more on then- account than they are worth, they 
ought, undoubtedly, to be preserved. What, however, in 
any given case, is a nation to do, until a genius shall arise 
who can reconcile contradictions which are too strong for 
ordinary hands ? In the mean while, is it not the wisest 
course to make the most favorable bargain that the nature 
of the dilemma offers ? Unless the public is absurd enough 
to abjure the literature of all languages which are not 
universally understood, there can be no member of the 
public who is not dependent, in one case or another, upon 
translations. The necessity of this refuge for the destitute 
being once admitted, it follows that they are entitled to the 
best that can be got. What is the best ? Surely, that in 
which the least of the original is lost — least lost in those 
qualities which are the most important. The native air 
and real meaning of a work are more essential qualities 
than the charm of its numbers, or the embellishments and 
the passion of its poetic style. The first is the metal and 
the weight ; the second is the plating and the fashion."— 
(No. 115, pp. 112, 113.) * 

A writer in the c; Examiner " speaks still more decidedly, 
and claims for prose translators a distinction which we 
should hardly have ventured to arrogate to ourselves : — 

"Everyone knows the magnificent translations left by 

* This article has been translated into French, and republished in 
the Revue Biitannique. 



xi 



Shelley, of the "Prologue in Heaven," and the "May-Day 
Night-Scene:/' fragments which, of themselves, have won 
many a young mind to the arduous study of the German lan- 
guage. By the industry of the present translator we leam, 
that many passages we have been in the habit of admiring in 
those translations, are not only perversions, but direct con- 
tradictions of the corresponding passages in Goethe, and 
that Shelley wanted a few months' study of German to 
make him equal to a translation of Faust. We do not 
think the translator need have troubled himself with any 
dissertation of this sort, in order to justify the design of a 
prose translation of Faust. ' My main object,' he says, ' in 
these criticisms, is to shake, if not remove, the very disad- 
vantageous impressions that have hitherto been prevalent 
of Faust, and keep public opinion suspended concerning 
Goethe, till some poet of congenial spirit shall arise, capable 
of doing justice to this the most splendid and interesting of 
his works.' Why not go further than this, and contend 
that a mind strongly imbued with poetical feeling, and 
rightly covetous of an acquaintance with the poet, will not 
rest satisfied with any tiling short of as exact a rendering 
of his words as the different phraseology of the two lan- 
guages will admit ? In such a translation, be it never so 
well executed, we know that much is lost j but nothing that 
is lost can be enjoyed without studying the language. No 
poetical translation can give the rhythm and rhyme of the 
original : it can only substitute the rhythm and rhyme of 
the translator ; and for the sake of this substitute, ice must 
renounce some portion of the original sense, and nearly all the 
expression ; whereas, by a prose translation, ice can arrive per- 
fectly at the thoughts and very nearly at the words of the 
original YvTien these (as in Faust) have sprung from the 
brain of an inspired master, have been brooded over, ma- 
tured, and elaborated during a great portion of a life, and 
finally issue forth, bearing upon them the stamp of a 



xii 



creative authority, to what are we to sacrifice any part or 
particle which can be made to survive in a literal transcript 
or paraphrase of prose ? To the pleasure of being simul- 
taneously tickled by the metres of a native poetaster, which, 
if capable of giving any enjoyment at all, will find them- 
selves better wedded to his own original thoughts, and 
which, were they the happiest and most musical in the 
world, can never ring out natural and concording music 
to aspirations born in another time> clime, and place, nor 
harmonize, like the original metres, with that tone of mind 
to which they should form a kind of orchestral accompani- 
ment in its creative mood 1 The sacred and mysterious union 
of thought ichh verse^ twin-born and immortally wedded from 
the moment of their common birth, can never be understood by 
those who desire verse translations of good poetry. 

" Nevertheless, the translator of poetry must be a poet, 
although he translates in prose. Such only can have suffi- 
cient feeling to taste the original to the core, combined with 
a sufficient mastery of language to give burning word for 
burning word, idiom for idiom, and the form of expression 
which comes most hoine in English for that which comes 
most heme in German. Such a task, in fact, is one re- 
quiring a great proportion of fire, as well as delicacy and 
judgment, and by no means what Dr. Johnson thought it — 
a task to be executed by any one who can read and under- 
stand the original."--- (March 24, 1833.) 

Another influential journal followed nearly the same line 
of argument: 

" To the combination — unhappily too rare '■ — of genius 
and energy, few tilings are impossible ; and we further 
venture to assert that, of the two undertakings, such a prose 
translation as the present is far more difficult than a met- 
rical version could be, always supposing the possession of 
an eminent power of language, and a pure poetical taste, to 
be equal in the one attempt and the other." — ( The Athe* 
nceum : for April 27th. 1833.) 



xiii 



The minor critics are fond of comparing a prose transla- 
tion to a skeleton. The fairer comparison would be to an 
engraving from a picture : where we lose, indeed, the charm 
of coloring, but the design, invention, composition, expres- 
sion, nay, the very light and shade of the original may be 
preserved. 

It may not be deemed wholly inapplicable to remark, 
that unrhymed verse had to encounter, on its introduction 
in most countries, a much larger share of prejudiced oppo- 
sition than prose translations of poetry seem destined to 
encounter amongst us. Milton found it necessary to enter 
on an elaborate, and, it must be owned, rather dogmatical 
defence ; and so strong was the feeling against Klopstock, 
that Goethe's father refused to admit the ' : Messiah" into his 
house, on account of its not being in rhyme, and it was read 
by his wife and children by stealth.* 

Since this was written, two weighty authorities, bearing 
on the subject, have appeared. 

( ' Yerse (says the student, in Mr. ' : Bulwer's Pilgrims of the 
Rhine, 5 ') cannot contain the refining subtile thoughts which a 
great prose writer embodies : the rhyme eternally cripples 
it 5 it properly deals with the common problems of hiunan 
nature which are now hackneyed, and not with the nice and 
philosophizing corollaries which may be drawn from them. 
Thus, though it would seem at first a paradox, common- 
place is more the element of poetry than of prose. And, 
sensible of this, even Schiller wrote the deepest of modern 
tragedies, his "Eiesco," in prose." — p. 317. 

This is not quoted as precisely in point, and it is only 
fair to add that Mr. Coleridge (indeed, what else could be 
expected from the translator of "Wallenstein ?") was for 
verse : 

* Dichtung und Wahrheit, b. 3. The ' : Messiah" is in hexameter 
verse, distinguished from the Greek and Latin hexameters by the 
frequent substitution of trochees for spondees. 



XIV 



" I have read a good deal of Mr. Harvard's version, and 
I think it done in a very manly style ; but I do not admit 
the argument for prose translations. I would, in general, 
rather see verse attempted in so capable a language as ours. 
The French cannot help themselves, of course, with such a 
language as theirs." — (Table Talk, vol. ii. p. 118.) 

Mr. Coleridge is here confounding general capability 
with capability for the purposes of translation, in which the 
English language is confessedly far inferior to the German, 
though, considering the causes of this inferiority, many 
may be induced to regard it more as a merit than a defect. 
Still, the fact is undoubted, that the pliancy and elasticity 
of the instrument with which they work, enable the Ger- 
mans to transfer the best works of other nations almost 
verbatim to their literature, — witness then* translations of 
Shakspeare, in which the very puns are inimitably hit off \ 
whilst our best translations are good only on a principle 
of compensation : the authors omit a great many of the 
beauties of their original, and, by way of set-off, insert a 
great many of then' own. In Mr. Coleridge's u Wallenstcin, ! ' 
for example : 

" The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 
The fair humanities of old religion , 
The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty ; 
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, 
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
Or chasms and wat-ry depths ; all these have vanished, 
They live no longer in the faith of reason." 

These seven lines are a beautiful amplification of two ; 

cc Die alten Fabelwesen sind nicht mehr, 
Das reizende Geschlecht ist ausgewandert." 

Literally, 

tc The old fable-existences are no more. 
The fascinating race has emigrated." 



XV 

With regard to the dispute about free and literal trans- 
lation, however, Mrs. Austin, by one happy reference, has 
satisfactorily determined the principle, and left nothing but 
the application in each individual case to dispute about : 

" It appears to me that Goethe alone (so far as I have 
seen) has solved the problem. In his usual manner he 
toned the subject on all sides, and saw that there are two 
aims of translation, perfectly distinct, nay, opposed ; and 
that the merit of a work of this kind is to be judged of en- 
tirely with reference to its aim. 

" ' There are two maxims of translation,' says he ; ' the 
one requires that the author of a foreign nation be brought 
to us in such a manner that we may regard him as our 
own : the other, on the contrary, demands of us that we 
transport ourselves over to him, and adopt his situation, his 
mode of speaking, his peculiarities. The advantages of 
both are sufficiently known to all instructed persons from 
masterly examples.' 

" Here, then, 1 the battle between free and literal transla- 
tion,' as the accomplished writer of an article in the last 
Edinburgh Eeview calls it, is set at rest forever, by simply 
showing that there is nothing to fight about ; that each is 
good with relation to its end — the one when matter alone 
is to be transferred, the other when matter and form." — 
(Characteristics of Goethe. Sfc, vol. i. pp. xxxii to xxxiv.) 

Few will deny that both matter and form are important 
in Goethe's Faust ; in such a case we want to know, not 
what may be said for the author, or how his thoughts and 
style may be improved upon, but what he himself has said 5 
and how he has said it. This brings me to another notion 
of mine, which has been rather unceremoniously con- 
demned. At page lxxxix of my original preface I had 
said: — ''Acting on this theory, he (M. Sainte-Aulaire) has 
given a clear and spirited, but vague and loose, paraphrase 
of the poem, instead of a translation of it; invariably 



xvi 



shunning the difficulties which various meanings present, 
by boldly deciding upon one, instead of trying to shadow 
out all of them — . which I regard as one of the highest 
triumphs a translator can achieve — and avoiding the charge 
of incorrectness by making it almost impossible to say 
whether the best construction has suggested itself or not/' 
On this, the able critic in the Edinburgh Review" remarks : 
— " Mr. Hayward says, that one of the highest triumphs of 
a translator, in a passage capable of various meaning, is to 
shadow out them all. In reply to this, our first remark is, 
that his own practice, according to his own account of it, is 
inconsistent with his rule. In the course of his inquiries 
he says, that ; he has not unfrequently had three or four 
different interpretations suggested to him by as many 
accomplished German scholars, each ready to do battle for 
his own against the world.' What then? Does he say 
that he has attempted to shadow out them all ? So far 
from it, he insists — we dare say with justice — that readers 
who may miss their favorite interpretation in his version of 
any passage, are bound to give him the credit of having 
wilfully ' rejected it. 5 " — -Xo. 115, p. 133. 

The writer here confounds attempting to do, with doing ; 
and contrasts, as inconsistent, passages referring to different 
descriptions of difficulties. The following is an example 
of my theory. At the beginning of the prison scene {post, 
p, 187,) occurs this puzzling line ; 

" Fort ! dein zagen zogert den Tod heran.*' 

Two interpretations, neither quite satisfactory, are sug- 
gested to me : it may mean either that death is advancing 
whilst Faust remains irresolute, or that death is accelerated 
by his hresolution. Having, therefore, first ascertained 
that the German word zdgern corresponds with the English 
word linger^ and that, in strictness, neither could be used as 
an active verb, I translated the passage literally : " On ! thy 



xvii 



irresolution lingers death hithenvards : " and thus shad- 
owed out the same meanings, and gave the same scope to 
commentary, as the original. Of course, this is only prac- 
ticable where exactly corresponding expressions can be 
had : for instance, in the passage to which the note at p. 
202 relates, we hare no corresponding expression for Das 
Werdende, and must therefore be content with a paraphrase ; 
but, in the latter part of the same passage, I see no reason 
for Shelley's changing enduring (the plain translation of 
dauernden) into sweet and melancholy, nor for M. Sainte-Au- 
laire's rendering the two last lines of the speech by — ei 
soumettez a Tepreuve de la sagesse les fantomes que de vagues 
de'sirs vous presentent, thereby gaining nothing in point of 
perspicuity, when he had corresponding French expressions 
at his command. Not unfrequently the literal meaning of 
a word (as in ein dwnkler Ehrenman) or the grammatical 
construction of a passage (as in Dock hast Dit Speise, fre.) is 
disputed : and, as it is impossible to construe two ways at 
once, in such instances rejection is unavoidable. I was 
thinking of these when I spoke of having not unfrequently 
had three or four different interpretations suggested to me. 

This may suffice to show the practicability of my theory 
in the only cases I meant it to embrace. It may be useful 
to show by an instance how much mischief may result from 
the neglect of it. The alehymical description, as explained 
by Mr. Griffiths (p. 220) has been generally regarded as a 
valuable illustration of the literary peculiarities of Goethe. 
Now all preceding translators, considering it as rubbish, 
had skipped, or paraphrased, or mistranslated it ; so that 
die French or English reader, however well acquainted 
with alehymical terms, could have made nothing of it. I 
was as much in the dark as my predecessors : but I thought 
that there might be something in it, though I could see 
nothing : I therefore translated the passage word for word, 
and then sent it to Mi\ Griffiths, His very interesting ex- 
2 



xviii 



planation was the consequence. This may be called an 
extreme case, but it shows the folly of excluding or altering 
plain words because we ourselves are unable at the moment 
to interpret them : and as a fact within my own immediate 
experience. I may add. that expressions seemingly indiffer- 
ent in their proper places, so frequently supply the key to 
subsequent allusions, that a translator always incurs the 
risk of breaking some link in the chain of association by a 
change. For instance, in my first edition. I followed Shel- 
ley in translating vereinzelt sich. — masses itself, under an idle 
notion that the context required it ; and every body thought 
me right, until Mr. Heraud (author of "The Descent into 
Hell," &c. &c.) proved to me that the most obvious signifi- 
cation (scatters itself) was the best, and that I had discon- 
nected the following line, and marred the continuity of the 
whole description, by the change. 

' ; I was wont boldly to affirm.' ; says Mr. Coleridge. " that 
it would be scarcely more difficult to push a stone out from 
the pyramids with the bare hand, than to alter a word, or 
the position of a word, in Shakspeare or ^Milton, (in their 
most important works, at least,) without making the author 
say something else or something worse, than he does say." 
This observation is strictly applicable to the Fust Part of 
Faust. 

Again, the most beautiful expressions in poetry (such 
expressions as Dante is celebrated for) are often in direct 
defiance of all rule and authority, and afford ample scope 
for cavilling. Is the translator to dilute or filter them, for 
fear of startling his reader by novelty or involving him in 
momentary doubt ? I am sorry to say that Mr. Coleridge 
has given some sanction to those who might be inclined to 
answer this question affirmatively. After making Wallen 
stein exclaim : 

" This anguish will be wearied down, I know j 
What pang- is permanent with man ? n 



xix 



he adds, in a note : — "A very inadequate translation of the 
original : r: 

• c Yerschmerzen werd : ich diesen Schlag - . das weissich, 
Deim was versclimerzte nicht der Menach ? - ,; 

Literally : 

" I shall grieve down this blow, of that I"m conscious ; 
What does not man grieve down ? ;5 

I trust my very high and constantly expressed admira- 
tion of Mr* Coleridge, will be held some apology for the 
presumption of the remark — but I really see no reason for 
excluding the literal translation from the text.* One of 
our most distinguished men of letters, who knew the Ger- 
man poets only through translations, once complained to 
me that he seldom found them painting, or conveying a fine 
image, by a word : as in the line — 

" How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank." 

How should he. unless that mode of translation which I 
have thus ventured on vindicating, be pursued 1 

In Appendix. Ho. 1, I have added an analysis of the sec- 
ond and concluding part of Faust, just full enough to give 
a general notion of the plot, if plot it can be called, where 
plot is none. I have been recommended^ both publicly and 
privately, to translate the whole, but it struck me that the 
scenes were too disconnected to excite much interest, and 
that the poetry had not substance enough to support a ver- 
sion into prose. As I have said already, in another place,! 
the Second Part presents few of those fine trains of philo- 
sophic thinking, or those exquisite touches of natural feel- 
ing, which form the great attraction of the First. The 

* Since this was written, the literal translation has been adopted. 
See the last edition of Coleridge's Works, 
t The " Foreign Quarterly Review, ? ' No. 23, Art. 4. 



XX 



principal charm will be found to consist in the idiomatic 
ease of the language, the spirit with which the lighter 
measures are struck off, and the unrivalled beauty of the 
descriptive passages ; which last are to be found in equal 
number in both parts, but are the only passages of the con- 
tinuation which would bear transplanting without a ruinous 
diminution of effect. Besides, my own opinion is, that the 
First Part will henceforth be read, as formerly, by and for 
itself ; nor would I advise those who wish to enjoy it thor- 
oughly, and retain the most favorable impression of it. to 
look at the Second Part at all. " Goethe's Faust should 
have remained a fragment. The heart-thrilling last scene 
of the First Part, Margaret's heavenly salvation, which 
works so powerfully upon the mind, should have remained 
the last: as indeed, for sublimity and impressiveness, it 
perhaps stands alone in the whole circle of literature. It 
had a fine effect, — how Faust, in the manner of the spirits 
that flitted around Mm, disappeared, — how mists veiled him 
from our sight, given over to inexorable Destiny, on whom, 
hidden from us, the duty of condemning or acquitting hinr 
devolved. The spell is now broken." ^ 

In Appendix, No. 2, will be found an account of the 
Story of Faust, and the various productions in art and lit- 
erature that have grown out of it. 

* Stieglitz, Sage vom Doctor Faust 

Temple, January. 1834. 



ADVERTISEMENT 

PREFIXED TO 

THE FIRST PUBLISHED EDITION. 



I commenced this translation without the slightest idea of 
publishing it, and even when, by aid of preface and notes. 
I thought I had produced a book which might contribute 
something towards the promotion of German literature in 
tliis country, I still felt unwilling to cast it from me beyond 
the power of alteration or recall. I therefore circulated, the 
whole of the first impression amongst my acquaintance, and 
made up my mind to be guided by the general tenor of the 
opinions I might receive from them. I also wished the 
accuracy of my version to be verified by as many examin- 
ations as possible, and I hoped to get some additional mat- 
ter for the notes. ' : The complete explanation of an author 
(say- Dr. Johnson) not systematic and consequential, but 
desultory and vagrant, abounding in casual allusions and 
light hints, is not to be expected from any single scholiast. 
What can be known will be collected by chance from the 
recesses of obscure and obsolete papers, (or from rare and 
curious books.) perused commonly with some other view. 
Of this knowledge every man has some, and none has 
much ; but when an author has engaged the public atten- 
tion, those who can add any tiling to his illustration, com- 
municate their discoveries, and time produces what had 
eluded diligence." 

The result of the experiment has been so far satisfactory, 
that I am now emboldened to lay the work before the pub- 
lic with some not unimportant alterations and additions 
suggested by subsequent inquiry or by friends. 

Temple. Tee. 25th, 1833 



\ 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 

[to the edition printed for private circulation.] 



The outline of Faust's story is already familiar enough, 
and I have given all that I think necessary in the way of 
illustration or commentary in the notes. In this place, 
therefore, I have principally to explain the motives which 
led to the following hazardous, and. some may think, pre- 
sumptuous undertaking. 

It was first suggested to me try a remark made by Mr. 
Charles Lamb to an honored friend of mine, that he had 
derived more pleasure from the meagre Lathi versions of 
the Greek tragedians, than from any other versions of them 
he was acquainted with. The following remarks by Goethe 
himself confirmed me in it : — 

" We Germans had the advantage that several significant 
works of foreign nations were first translated in an easy 
and clear manner. Shakspeare, translated into prose, first 
by Wieland, then by Eschenburg, being a reading generally 
intelligible and adapted to every reader, was enabled to 
spread rapidly, and produce a great effect. I honor both 
rhythm and rhyme, by which poetry first becomes poetry : 
but the properly deep and radically operative, — the truly 
developing and quickening, is that which remains of the 

* The Rev. H. F. Cary, translator of Dante and Pindar. 



xxiii 



poet, When lie is translated into prose. The inward sub- 
stance then remains in its purity and fulness : which, when 
it is absent, a dazzling exterior often deludes ns with the 
semblance of and. when it is present, conceals." 

This will be admitted to be very high authority in favor 
of occasional prose translations of poetry ; and I think no 
one who knows Faust will deny, that it is the poem of 
all others of which a prose translation is most imperatively 
required. — for the simple reason, that it teems with thought, 
and has long exercised a widely-spread influence by quali- 
ties independent of metre and rhyme. I am not aware that 
I can illustrate my meaning better than by the following 
extract from a German Review.f It forms part of a critical 
notice of a work by M. Rosenkranz, and (with all its exag- 
geration and enthusiasm) may be taken as a fan* sample of 
the light hi which Faust is considered in Germany : — 

K The various attempts to continue the infinite matter of 
Faust where Goethe drops it, although in themselves fruit- 
less and unsuccessful, at least show in what manifold ways 
this great poem may be conceived, and how it presents 
a different side to every individuality. As the sunbeam 
breaks itself differently in every eye. and the starred heaven 
and nature are different for every soul-mirror, so is it with 
this immeasurable and exhaustless poem. We have seen 
illustrators and continuers of Faust, who, captivated by the 
practical wisdom which pervades it, considered the whole 

* Aus meinem Leben : Diektung und Wahrheit. — Th. iii. b. 11. 
Hardly a single sentence of the English version, published under 
the title of " Memoirs of Goethe, ? ' is to be depended upon. The 
translation of Shakspeare, mentioned by Goethe, was originally 
undertaken by Wieland, who, according to Griiber, was paid at 
the rate of two Thalers (six shillings) per sheet. He completed 
twenty-two of the plays ; which were afterwards republished by 
Eschenburg, with the rest translated by himself. 

f Die Blatter fur Literarische Vnterhaltung — Liepzig. 



xxiv 



poem as one great collection of maxims of life ; we have 
met Avith others who saw nothing else in it but a pantheisti- 
cal solution of the enigma of existence : others again, more 
alive to the genius of poetry, admired only the poetical 
clothing of the ideas, which otherwise seemed to them to 
have little significance; and others, again, saw nothing 
peculiar but the felicitous exposition of a philosophical 
theory, and the specification of certain errors of practical 
life. All these are right : for from all these points of view 
Faust is great and significant : but whilst it appears to fol- 
low these several directions as radiations from a focus, at 
the same time it contains (but for the most part concealed) 
its peculiar, truly great, and principal direction: and tliis is 
the reconcilement of the great contradiction of the world, 
the establishment of peace between the Eeal and the Ideal. 
No one who loses sight of this, the great foundation of 
Faust, will find himself in a condition — we do not say to 
explain or continue, but even to read and comprehend the 
poem. This principal basis underlies all its particular ten- 
dencies — the religious, the philosophical, the scientific, the 
practical: and fur this very reason is it. that the theologian, 
the scholar, the soldier, the man of the world, and the stu- 
dent of philosophy, to whatever school he may belong, are 
all sure of finding something to interest them in this all- 
embracing production.' ' 

Surely a work of which tliis, or any thing like it. can be 
said, deserves to be translated as literally as the genius of 
our language will admit : with an almost exclusive refer- 
ence to the strict meaning of the words and a comparative 
disregard of the beauties which are commonly thought 
peculiar to poetry, should they prove irreconcilable with the 
sense. I am not saying that they will prove so. for the 
noblest conceptions and most beautiful descriptions in 
Faust would be noble and beautiful in any language capa- 



XXV 



i)lc of containing tliem. be it as unmusical and harsh as it 
would. — 

" As sunshine broken on a rill. 
Though turned astray, is sunshine still.'* 

Still less am I saving that such a translation would be the 
best, or should be the only one. But I venture to think 
that it may possess some interest and utility now : when, at 
the distance of nearly half a century from the first appear- 
ance of the work, nothing at all approximating to an accu- 
rate version of it exists. With one or two exceptions, all 
attempts by foreigners (foreigners as regards Germany. I 
mean.) to translate even solitary scenes or detached pas- 
sages from Faust, are crowded with the most extraordinary 
mistakes, not of words merely, but of spirit and tone : and 
the author's fame has suffered accordingly. For no warn- 
ings on the part of those who know and would fain mani- 
fest the truth, can entirely obviate the deteriorating influ- 
ence of such versions on the mind. "I dare say." the 
reader replies. ,; that what yon tell me about this translation 
may be right, but the author's meaning can hardly be so 
obscured or perverted as to prevent my forming some 
notion of his powers. ?: 

Now I print this translation with the view of proving to 
a certain number of my literary friends, and through them 
perhaps to the public at large, that they have hitherto had 
nothing from which they can form a just estimate of Faust : 
and with this view, and this view only. I shall prefix a few 
remarks on the English and French translators who have 
preceded me. 

[Here followed remarks on Lord Francis Egerton, Shel- 
ley, the author of the translation published with the Eng- 
lish edition of Retzsch's " Outlines." the author of the trans- 
lated passages in "Blackwood's Magazine." Xo. 39. (Dr. 
Anster.) Madame de Stael. and MM. de Sainte-Aulaire. 



XXVI 



Stapfer, and Gerard. These remarks are omitted because 
their original purpose has been fulfilled.] 

My main object in these criticisms is to shake, if not 
remove, the very disadvantageous impressions that have 
hitherto been prevalent of Faust, and keep public opinion 
suspended concerning Goethe till some poet of congenial 
spirit shall arise, capable of doing justice to this, the most 
splendid and interesting of his works. By my translation, 
als^. I shall be able to show what he is not. though it will 
be quite impossible for me to show what he is. u II me 
reste (says M. Stapfer) a protester contre cetix qui. spies 
la lecture de cette traduction, s'imagineraient avoir acquis 
une idee complete dc l'original. Porte sur tel outrage 
traduit que ce soit, le jugement serait errone: il le s era it 
surtout a regard de celui-ci, a. cause de la perfection con- 
tinue du style. Qu'on se figure tout le eharme de l' Am- 
phitryon de Moliere joint a ce que les poesies de Parny 
orTrent de plus gracicux, alors sculement on pourra se 
croire dispense de le lire."' If I do not say something of 
the sort, it is only because I cannot decide with what Eng- 
lish names Moliere and Parny would be most aptly re- 
placed. The merely English reader, however, will perhaps 
take my simple assurance, that, from the admitted beauty 
of Goethe's versification, no writer loses more by being 
submitted to the crucible of prose: though, at the same 
time, very few writers can afford to lose so much : as Dry- 
den said of Shakspeare. if his embroideries were burnt 
down, there would still be silver at the bottom of the melt- 
ing-pot. The bloom-like beauty of the songs, in particular, 
vanishes at the bare touch of a translator : as regards these, 
therefore. I may as well own at once that I am inviting my 
friends to a sort of Barmecide entertainment, where fancy 
must supply all the materials for banqueting. I have one 
comfort, however ; the poets have hitherto tried then hands 
at them in vain, and I am backed by very high authority in 



xxvii 



declaring the most "beautiful — Memt Ruti ist km — to be 
utterly untranslatable. Indeed, it is only by a lucky chance 
that a succession of simple heartfelt expressions or idio- 
matic felicities in one language, are ever capable of exact 
representation in another. Two passages already quoted 
appear well adapted to exemplify what I mean. When 
Margaret exclaims : — 

" Sag Xeimand das du schon bey Gretclien warst," 

it is quite impossible to render in English the finely shad- 
ed meaning of bey. Here, therefore. Germany has the 
best of it : but when we translate — 

11 Schbn war ich audi, und das war mein verderben.p 

•• I was fair too. and that was. my undoing.'- — we greatly 
improve upon the original, and add a delicacy which I defy 
any German to imitate : for the applicability of verderben in 
so many other places, completely spoils its peculiar fitness 
for tins. 

Ify only object in giving a sort of lnythmical arrange- 
ment to the lyrical parts, was to convey some notion of 
the variety of versification which forms one great charm of 
the poem. The idea was first suggested to me by Milton's 
translation of the "Ode to Pyrrha," entitled: ct Qxis madia 
gracUUs te puer in rosd. rendered almost word for word, 
without rime, according to the Latin measure, as near 
as the language will admit.'' But I have seldom, if ever, 
made any sacrifice of sense for the purpose of rounding 
a line in the lyrics, or a period in the regular prose , 
proceeding throughout on the rooted conviction, that, if a 
translation such as mine be not literal, it is valueless. By 
literal, however, must be understood, merely that I have 
endeavored to convey the precise meaning of Goethe : an 
object often best attainable by preserving the exact form 
of expression employed by him, unless, indeed, it be an 



xxviii 



exclusively national one. Even then I have not always 
rejected it : for one great advantage to be anticipated from 
such translations is the naturalization of some of those 
pregnant modes of expression in which the German lan- 
guage is so remarkably rich. Idioms, of course, belong to 
a wholly different category. My remarks apply only to 
those phrases and compounds where nothing is wanting, to 
make an Englishman perfectly an fait of them, but to think 
out the full meaning of the words. In all such cases. I 
translate literally, in direct defiance of those sagacious 
critics, who expect to catch the spirit of a work of genius 
as dogs lap water from the Nile, and vote a German 
author unreadable, unless all his own and his country's 
peculiarities are planed away. In short, my theory is. 
that if the English reader, not knowing German, be made 
to stand in the same relation to Eaust as the English 
reader, thoroughly acquainted with German, stands in 
towards it — that is, if the same impressions be conveyed 
through the same sort of medium, whether bright or dusky, 
coarse or fine — the very extreme point of a translators 
duty has been attained. 

But. though pretty confident of the correctness of this 
theory. I am far from certain that my practice uniformly 
accords with it — 

" Video meliora proboque. 
Beteriora sequor — 

I cannot deny that I have often been driven to a para- 
phrase by necessity, and sometimes seduced into one by 
indolence. As the translation, however, has been executed 
at leisure moments, was finished many months ago, and 
has undergone the careful revisal of friends, I think I can 
answer for its general accuracy : but in a work so crowded 
with elliptical and idiomatic, nay, even provincial, modes 
of expression, and containing so many doubtful allusions. 



xxix 



as Faust, it is morally impossible to guard against indi- 
vidual errors, or what, at any rate, may be represented as 
such, by those who will not give the translator credit for 
having weighed and rejected the constructions they may 
chance to prefer. In the course of my inquiries, I have not 
unfrequently had three or four different interpretations sug- 
gested to me by as many accomplished German scholars, 
each ready to do battle for his own against the world. 
There are also some few meanings which all reasonable 
people confess themselves unable to un-earth. — or rather, 
un-hcaven: for it is by rising, not sinking, that Goethe 
leaves his readers behind : and in nearly all such instances, 
we respect, despite of our embarrassment, the aspirations of 
a master-mind, soaring proudly up into the infinite un- 
known, and. though failing possibly in the full extent of its 
aims, yet bringing back rich tokens of its flight. 

Faust has never yet been published with notes, with the 
exception of a very few added to the French translations, 
in which none of the real difficulties are removed. I have 
endeavored to supply this deficiency by bringing together 
all the information I could collect amongst an extensive 
circle of German acquaintance. I have also ransacked all 
the commentaries I could get, though nothing can be more 
unsatisfactory than the result. They are almost exclu- 
sively filled with trashy amplifications of the text, not un- 
frequently dilating into chapters what Goethe had condensed 
in a line. I have named the whole of them in an Appendix. 
That of Dr. Sclmbart is said to be the only one which ever 
received any token of approbation from Goethe. A few 
parallel passages from English poets will also be found in 
the notes. They are merely such as incidentally suggested 
themselves ; except, indeed, that I reread the greater part of 
Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Shelley, during the progress of 
the undertaking. 

I fear it will be quite impossible for me to acknowledge 



XXX 



all the assistance I have received, but there are a few kind 
cooperators whom I think it a duty to name, though with- 
out then knowledge and perhaps contrary to their wish. 

I certainly owe most to my old master and friend Mr. 
Heilner, whose consummate critical knowledge of both lan- 
guages enabled him to afford me the most effective aid in 
disentangling the perplexities of the work: and to my 
friend Mr. Hills, one of the best German scholars I know, 
in whose richly stored mind and fine taste I found a perfect 
treasure-house of all that is most beautiful in the most 
beautiful creations of genius, and an almost infallible cri- 
terion of propriety. But it is also with pride and pleasure 
that I offer my best acknowledgments for very valuable 
a ij t0 — Mrs* John Austin, the elegant translator of the 

German Princess Tour : " Dr. Bemays. Professor of the 
German Language and Literature at King's College, and 
one of those who have reflected most honor on that Insti- 
tution by their works ; my clever and warm-hearted friend. 
Mr. Heller. Attache to the Prussian Embassy; Mr. A. 
Troppaneger, a German gentleman of learning and taste 
now residing in London : Dr. Jacob Grimm, the first philol- 
ogist of this or perhaps of any age, and an eminently suc- 
cessful cultivator of the most interesting department of 
German literature besides : and last, not least. A. W. von 
SchlegeL whose enduring claims to general admiration are 
at once too various to be easily enumerated and too well 
known to need enumerating. There is yet another highly 
distinguished friend, whose name I should have been en- 
abled to add. had not his regretted absence in a foreign 
country deprived me of it. When I reflect how much I 
owed to liini on a former occasion of the kind. I cannot 
contemplate the omission without a pang.* 

* [I alluded to Mr. G. C. Lewis, Translator of Boeklvs " Domes- 
tic Policy of the Athenians, 5 ' and (with Mr. H. Tunhellprdller ; s 
h History of the Dorians He looked over my translation from 
Savigny for me. 



xxxi 



In conclusion I have only to say. that, as I followed no 
one implicitly, my friends are not answerable for my mis- 
takes : and that I shall be much obliged to any one who 
will suggest any amendment in the translation or any ad- 
dition to the notes, as at some future time I may reprint or 
publish the work. 

Temple. January oth. 1833. 



3 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 3 



Manages — Theatre -Poet — Merryman. 



Manages. 

Ye two, who have so often stood by me in need and trib- 
ulation, say, what hopes do you happen to entertain of our 
undertaking upon German ground 1 I wish very much to 
please the multitude, particularly because it lives and lets 
live. The posts, the boards, are put up, and every one 
looks forward to a feast. There they sit already, cool, with 
elevated brows, and would fain be set a wondering. I 
know how the spirit of the people is propitiated : yet I 
have never been in such a dilemma as now. True, they 
are not accustomed to the best, but they have read a terri- 
ble deal. How shall we manage it — that all be fresh and 
new, and pleasing and instructive, at once ? 3 Tor assuredly 
I like to see the multitude, when the stream rushes towards 
our booth, and, with powerfully -repeated undulations, forces 
itself though the narrow portal of grace — when, in broad 
daylight, already before four, they elbow their way to the 
paying-place, and risk breaking their necks for a ticket, as 
in a famine at bakers' doors for bread. It is the poet only 
that works this miracle on people so various — oh ! do it my 
friend, to day ! 

Poet. 

Oh ! speak not to me of that motley multitude, at whose 
very aspect one's spirit takes flight. Veil from me that 



4 



undulating throng, which sucks us. against our will, into 
the whirlpool. 2so ! conduct me to the quiet, heavenly 
nook, where alone pure enjoyment blooms for the poet — 
where love and friendship, with godlike hand, create and 
cherish the blessings of the heart. Ah! what there hath 
gushed from us in the depths of the breast, what the lip 
stammered tremblingly to itself — now failing, and now 
perchance succeeding — the wild moment's sway swallows 
up. Often only when it has endured through years, does it 
appear in perfected form. What glitters, is bom for the 
moment ; what is genuine, remains unlost to posterity. 

Merbymak. 

If I could but hear no more about posterity ! Suppose I 
chose to talk about posterity, who then would make fun for 
contemporaries ? That they will have — and ought to have 
it. The presence of a gallant lad, too, is always some- 
thing, I should think. Who knows how to impart himself 
agreeably — he will never be irritated by popular caprice. 
He desires a large circle, to agitate it the more certainly. 
Then do but tiy your best, and show yourself a model. Let 
Fancy, with all her choruses — Reason, Understanding, 
Feeling, Passion, but — mark me well — not without Folly, 
be heard. 

Manages. 

But, most particularly, let there be incident enough. 
People come to look: 4 then greatest pleasure is to see. If 
much is spun off before then eyes, so that the many can 
gape with astonishment, you have then gained in breadth 
immediately ; you are a great favorite. You can only sub- 
due the mass by mass. Each eventually picks out some- 
thing for himself. Who brings much, will bring something 
to many a one, 5 and all leave the house content. If you 
give a piece, give it at once in pieces ! With such a hash, 
you cannot but succeed. It is easily served out, as easily 



5 



as invented. What avails it to present a whole'? The 
public will pull it to pieces for you, notwithstanding. 

Poet. 

You feel not the baseness of such a handicraft ; how little 
that becomes the true artist! The daubing of these fine 
sparks. I see, is already a niaxhn with you. 

Manages, 

Such a reproof does not mortify me at all. A man who 
intends to work properly, must take care to have the best 
tool. Consider, you have soft wood to split ; and only look 
whom you are writing for ! Whilst one is driven by ennui, 
the other comes satiated from an overloaded table: and, 
what is worst of all, very many a one comes from reading 
the newspapers. People hurry dissipated to us, as to mas- 
querades ; and curiosity only wings every step. The ladies 
give themselves and their finery as a treat, and play with, 
us without pay. What are you dreaming about on your 
poetical height 1 What is it that makes a full bouse merry ? 
Look closely at your patrons ! Half are cold, half raw. 
The one looks forward to a game of cards af ter the play ; 
the other to a wild night on the bosom of a wench. Why, 
poor fools that ye are, do ye plague the sweet Muses for 
such an end ? I tell you, only give more and more, and 
more again; thus you can never be wide of your mark. 
Try only to mystify the people; to satisfy them is hard — 
What is come to you ? Delight or pain ? 

Poet. 

Begone, and seek thyself another servant ! 6 The poet, 
forsooth, is wantonly to sport away for thy sake the high- 
est right, the right of man, which Kature bestows upon 
him ! By what stirs he every heart ? By what subdues he 
every element ? Is it not the harmony — which bursts from 
out his breast, and sucks the world back again into his 
heart ? When Xature, carelessly winding, forces the thread's 



6 



interminable length upon the spindle; when the confused 
multitude of all Beings jangles out of tune and harsh. — who. 
life-infusing, so disposes the ever equably-flowing series, that 
it moves rhythmically ? Who calls the Individual to the 
general consecration — where it strikes in glorious accords ? 
Who bids the tempest rage to passions? the evening-red 
glow in the pensive spirit % Who scatters on the loved 
one's path all beauteous blossomings of spring ? Who 
wreathes the unmeaning green leaves into a garland of 
honor for deserts of all kinds ? Who insures Olympus ? 
— associates gods % Man's power revealed in the Poet. 

Merryman. 

Employ these fine powers then, and carry on your poet- 
ical affairs as one carries on a love adventure. Accident- 
ally one approaches, one feels, one stays, and little by little 
one gets entangled. The happiness increases, — then it is 
disturbed ; one is delighted, — then comes distress ; and be- 
fore one is aware of it, it is even a romance. Let us also 
give a play in this manner. Do but grasp into the thick of 
human life ! Every one lives it, — to not many is it known : 
and seize it where you will, it is interesting. Little clear- 
ness in motley images! much falsehood and a spark of 
truth ! 7 this is the way to brew the best liquor, which re- 
freshes and edifies all the world. Then assembles youth's 
fairest flower to see your play, and listens to the revelation. 
Then every gentle mind sucks melancholy nourishment 
for itself from out your work ; then one while this, and one 
while that, is stirred up : each one sees what he carries in 
his heart. They are as yet equally ready to weep and to 
laugh; they still honor the soaring, are pleased with the 
glitter. One who is formed, there is no such thing as pleas- 
ing ; one who is forming, will always be grateful. 

Poet. 

Then give me also back again the times, when I myself 



7 



was still forming : when a fountain of crowded lays sprang 
freshly and unbrokenly forth ; when mists veiled the world 
before me, — the bud still promised miracles : when I gath- 
ered the thousand flowers which profusely filled all the 
dales ! I had nothing, and yet enough. — the longing after 
truth, and the pleasure in delusion ! Give me back those 
impulses untamed. — the deep, pain-fraught happiness, the 
energy of hate, the might of love!— Give me back my 
youth ! 

Merrymax. 

Youth, my good friend, you want indeed, when foes press 
you hard in the fight, — when the loveliest of lasses cling 
with ardor round your neck. — when from afar, the gar- 
land of the swift course beckons from the hard- won goal, — 
when after the dance's maddening whirl, one chinks away 
the night carousing. But to strike the familiar lyre with 
spirit and grace, to sweep along, with happy wanderings, 
towards a self-appointed aim: — that, old gentleman, is your 
duty. s and we honor you not the less on that account. Old 
age does not make childish, as men say : it only finds us 
still as true children. 

Manager. 

Words enough have been interchanged : let me now see 
deeds also. Whilst you are turning compliments, some- 
thing useful may be done. What boots it to stand talking 
about being in the vein ! The hesitating never is so. If ye 
once give yourselves out for poets. — command poesy. You 
well know what we want; we would sip strong drink — 
now brew away immediately ! What is not doing to-day, 
is not done to-morrow. Xo day should be wasted in dally- 
ing. Resolution should boldly seize the possible by the 
forelock at once. She will then not let it go, and works on, 
because she cannot help it. 

You know, upon our German stage, every one tries what 
he likes. Therefore spare me neither scenery nor ma- 



s 



ciiinery upon this day. Use the greater and the lesser light 
of heaven; 9 you are free to squander the stars ; there is no 
want of water, fire, rocks, beasts, and birds. So tread in 
this narrow booth, the whole circle of creation : and travel, 
with considerate speed, from Heaven, through the World, 
to Hell. 



FAUST. 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 10 

The Lord ; the Heavenly Hosts ; 
afterwards Mephistopheles. 

The Three Archangels come forward. 

Raphael. 

The sun chimes in, as ever, with the emulous 
music of his brother spheres, 11 and performs his 
prescribed journey with thunder-speed. His as- 
pect gives strength to the angels, though none 
can fathom him. Thy inconceivably sublime 
works are glorious as on the first day. 

Gabriel. 

And rapid, inconceivably rapid, the pomp of 
the earth revolves ; the brightness of paradise al- 
ternates with deep, fearful night. The sea foams 
up in broad waves at the deep base of the rocks ; 
and rock and sea are whirled on in the ever rapid 
course of the spheres. 

Michael. 

And storms are roaring as if in rivalry, from 
sea to land, from land to sea, and form all around 



JO 



a chain of the deepest ferment in their rage. — 
There, flashing desolation flares before the path 
of the thunder-clap. But thy messengers, Lord, 
respect the mild going of thy day. 12 

The Three. 
Thy aspect gives strength to the angels, though 
none can fathom thee, and all thy sublime works 
are glorious as on the first day. 

MErHISTOPIIELES. 

Since, Lord, you approach once again, and 
inquire how things are going on with us, and on 
other occasions were not displeased to see me — 
therefore is it that you see me also amongst your 
suite. Excuse me, I cannot talk fine, not though 
the whole circle should cry scorn on me. My 
pathos would certainly make you laugh, had you 
not left off laughing. I have nothing to say 
about suns and worlds ; I only mark how men 
are plaguing themselves. The little god of the 
world continues ever of the same stamp, and is 
as odd as on the first day. He would lead a 
somewhat better life of it, had you not given him 
a glimmering of heaven's light. He calls it rea- 
son, and uses it only to be the most brutal of 
brutes. He seems to me, with your Grace's 
leave, like one of the long-legged grasshoppers, 
which is ever flying, and bounding as it flies, and 
then sings its old song in the grass ; ■ — and would 
that he did but lie always in the grass ! He 
thrusts his nose into every puddle. 

The Lord. 

Have you nothing else to say to me? Are 
you always coming for no other purpose than to 
complain ? Is nothing ever to your liking upon 
earth ? 



11 



Mephistopheles. 
Xo, Lord ! I find things there, as ever, miser- 
ably bad. Men, in their clays of wretchedness, 
move my pity ; even I myself have not the heart 
to torment the poor things. 

The Lord. 
Do you know Faust ? 

Mephistopheles. 
The Doctor? 

The Lord. 

My servant ! 

Mephistopheles, 
Verily! he serves you after a fashion ot his 
own. The fool's meat and drink are not of earth. 
The ferment of his spirit impels him towards the 
far away. He himself is half conscious of his 
madness. Of heaven- — he demands its brightest 
stars ; and of earth — its every highest enjoyment ; 
and all the near, and all the far, content not his 
deeply-agitated breast. 

The Lord. 
Although he does but serve me in perplexity 
now, I shall soon lead him into light. When the 
tree buds, the gardener knows that blossom and 
fruit will deck the coming years. 

Mephistopheles. 
What will you wager ? you shall lose him yet 
if you give me leave to guide him quietly my 
own way. 

The Lord. 
So long as he lives upon the earth, so long be 
it not forbidden to thee. Man is liable to error, 
whilst his struggle lasts. 



12 



Mephistopheles. 
I am much obliged to you for that ; for I have 
never had any fancy for the dead. I like plump, 
fresh cheeks the best. I am not at home to a 
corpse. I am like the cat with the mouse. 

The Lord. 
Enough, it is permitted thee. Divert tins spirit 
from his original source, and bear him, if thou 
canst seize him, down on thy own path with thee. 
And stand abashed, when thou art compelled to 
own — a good man, in his dark strivings, may 
still be conscious of the right way. 1 ' 3 

Mephistopheles. 

Well, well, — only it will not last long. I am 
not at all in pain for my wager. Should I suc- 
ceed, excuse my triumphing with my whole soul. 
Dust shall he eat, and with a relish, like my 
cousin, the renowned snake. 

The Loud. 
There also you are free to act as you like. I 
have never hated the like of you. Of all the 
spirits that deny, the scoffer is the least offensive 
to me. 14 Man's activity is all too prone to slum- 
ber : he soon gets fond of unconditional repose : 
I am therefore glad to give him a companion, 
who stirs and works, and must, as devil, be doing. 
But ye, the true children of heaven, rejoice in 
the living profusion of beauty. The creative es- 
sence, 15 which works and lives through all time, 
embrace you within the happy bounds of love ; 
and what hovers in changeful seeming, do ye fix 
firm with everlasting thoughts. {Heaven closes, the 
Archangels disperse. 



13 

Mephistopheles alone. 
I like to see the Ancient One occasionally, 16 
and take care not to break with him. It is really 
civil in so great a Lord, to speak so kindly with 
the Devil himself. 



FAUST. 



NIGHT. 

Faust in a high-vaulted narrow Gothic chamber, 
seated restless at his desk. 15 

Faust. 

- — have now, alas, by zealous exertion, thorough- 
ly mastered philosophy, the jurist's craft, and med- 
icine, — and, to my sorrow, theology too. Here 
I stand, poor fool that I am, just as wise as be- 
fore. I am called Master, ay, and Doctor, and 
have now for nearly ten years been leading my 
pupils about — up and down, crossways and crook- 
ed ways — by the nose ; and see that we can 
know nothing ! This it is that almost burns up 
the heart within me. 18 True, I am cleverer than 
all the solemn triflers — doctors, masters, writers, 
and priests. No doubts nor scruples of any sort 
trouble me ; I fear neither hell nor the devil. — 
For this very reason is all joy torn from me. 19 I 
no longer fancy I know any thing worth knowing ; 
I no longer fancy I could teach any thing to bet- 
ter and convert mankind. Then I have neither 
land nor money, nor honor and rank in the 
world. No dog would like to live so any longer. 



16 



I have therefore devoted myself to magic — 20 
whether, through the power and voice of the 
Spirit, many a mystery might not become known 
to me ; that I may no longer, with bitter sweat, 
be obliged to speak of what I do not know ; that 
I may learn what it is that holds the world to- 
gether hi its inmost core, see all the springs and 
seeds of production, and drive no longer a paltry 
traffic in words. 

Oh ! would that thou, radiant moonlight, wert 
looking for the last time upon my misery ; thou, 
for whom I have sat watching so many a midnight 
at this desk ; then, over books and papers, melan- 
choly friend, didst thou appear to me ! — Oh ! 
that I might wander on the mountain-tops in thy 
loved light — hover with spirits around the moun- 
tain caves < — flit over the fields in thy glimmer, 
and, disencumbered from all the fumes of knowl- 
edge, bathe myself sound in thy dew ! 

Woe is me ! am I still penned up in this dun- 
geon ? — accursed, musty, walled hole ! — where 
even the precious light of heaven breaks mourn- 
fully through painted panes, stinted by this heap 
of books, ■ — which worms eat — dust begrimes — 
which, up to the very top of the vault, a smoke- 
smeared paper encompasses; with glasses and 
boxes ranged round, with instruments piled up 
on all sides, ancestral lumber stuffed in with the 
rest ? This is thy world, and a precious world 
it is! 

And dost thou still ask, why thy heart flutters 
so confinedly in thy bosom ? — Why a vague ach- 
ing deadens within thee every stirring principle 
of life ? — Instead of the animated nature, for 
which God made man, thou hast nought around 



17 



thee but beasts' skeletons and dead men's bones, 
in smoke and mould. 

Up ! away ! out into the wide world ! And 
this mysterious book, from Xostradamus's 21 own 
hand, is it not guide enough for thee ? Thou 
then knowest the course of the stars, and, when 
nature instructs thee, the soul's essence then rises 
up to thee, as one spirit speaks to another. Vain ! 
that dull poring here expounds the holy signs to 
thee ! Ye are hovering, ye Spirits, near me ; 
answer me, if you hear. 

( He opens the book and perceives the sign of the 
Macrocosm.) 22 

Ah ! what rapture thrills at once through all 
my senses at this sight ! I feel a fresh, hallowed 
life-joy. new-glowing, shoot through nerve mid 
vein. Was it a god that traced these signs ? — 
which still the storm within me, fill my poor heart 
with gladness, and, by a mystical inspiration, un- 
veil the powers of nature all around me. Am I a 
god ? All grows so bright ! I see, hi these pure 
lines, nature herself working in my soul's pres- 
ence. Xow for the first time do I conceive what 
the sage saith, — " The spirit-world is not closed. 
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead ! Up, aco- 
lyte 1 23 bathe, untired, thy earthly breast in the 
morning-red." 

( He contemplates the sign.) 
How all weaves itself into the whole ; one 
works and lives in the other. How heavenly in- 
nuences ascend and descend, and reach each other 
the golden buckets, — on bhss-exhaling pinions, 
press from heaven through earth, all ringing har- 
moniously through the All. 2i 

What a show ! but, ah ! a show only ! Where 
4 



18 



shall I seize thee, infinite nature ? Ye breasts, 
where? ye sources of all life, on which hang 
heaven and earth, towards which the blighted 
breast presses — ye gush, ye suckle, and am I 
thus languishing in vain ? 

( He turns over the booh indignantly, and sees the 
sign of the Spirit of the Earth,) 

How differently this sign affects me ! Thou, 
Spirit of the Earth, art nearer to me ! Already 
do I feel my energies exalted, already glow as 
with new wine ; I feel courage to venture into the 
world ; to< endure earthly weal, earthly woe ; to 
wrestle with storms, and stand unshaken mid the 
shipwreck's crash. — Clouds thicken over me ; 
the moon pales her light ; the lamp dies away ; 
exhalations arise; red beams flash round my 
head ; a cold shuddering 25 flickers down from the 
vaulted roof and fastens on me ! I feel it — thou 
art flitting round me, prayer-compelled Spirit. 
Unveil thyself ! All ! what a tearing in my heart 
— all my senses are up-stirring to new sensations ! 
I feel my whole heart surrendered to thee. Thou 
must — thou must ! — should it cost me my life. 

( He seizes the booh and pronounces mystically 
the sign of the Spirit. A red flame flashes 
up; the Spirit appears in the flame.) 
Spirit. 

Who calls for me ? 

Faust ( averting his face ). 
Horrible vision ! 

Spirit. 

Thou hast compelled me hither, by dint of long 
sucking at my sphere. And now — 
Faust. 
Torture ! I endure thee not. 



19 



Spirit. 

Thou prayest, panting, to see me, to hear my 
voice, to gaze upon my face. Thy powerful invo- 
cation works upon me. I am here ! What a pit- 
iful terror seizes thee, the demi-god ! Where is 
the soul's calling ? Where the breast, that created 
a world in itself, and upbore and cherished it ? 
which, with tremors of delight, swelled to lift itself 
to a level with us, the Spirits. Where art thou, 
Faust ? — whose voice rang to me, who pressed 
towards me with all his energies ! Art thou he ? 2(5 
thou, who, at the bare perception of my breath, 
art shivering through all the depths of life, a 
trembling, writhing worm ? 

Faust. 

Shall I yield to thee, child of fire ? I am he, 
am Faust, thy equal. 

Spirit. 

In the tides of life, 
In the storm of action. 
I am tossed up and down. 
I drift hither and thither. 
Birth and grave, 
An eternal sea, 
A changeful weaving, 
A glowing life — ■ 

Thus I work at the whizzing loom of time. 
And weave the living clothing of the Deity. 
Faust. 

Busy Spirit, thou who sweepest round the wide 
world, how near I feel to thee ! 

Spirit. 

Thou art mate for the spirit whom thou con- 
ceivest, not for me* (The Spirit vanishes.) 



20 



Faust - — collapsing. 
Not for thee ! For whom then ? I, the image 
of the Deity, and not mate for even thee ! 

( A knocking at the door.) 
Oh, death ! I know it : that is my amanuensis. 
My fairest fortune is turned to nought. — That the 
uniclea'd groveller must disturb this fulness of 
visions ! 

f Wagner 27 enters in his dressing-gown and 
night-cap, ivith a lamp in his hand. Faust 
turns round in displeasure.) 

Wagner. 

Excuse me — I hear you declaiming ; you were 
surely reading a Greek tragedy. I should like to 
improve myself in this ar4, for now-a-days it in- 
fluences a good deal. I have often heard say, a 
player might instruct a priest. 

Faust. 

Yes, when the priest is a player, as may likely 
enough come to pass occasionally. 

Wagner. 

Ah ! when a man is so confined to his study, 
and hardly sees the world of a holyday — hardly 
through a telescope, only from afar — how is he 
to lead it by persuasion ? 

Faust. 

If you do not feel it, you will not get it by 
hunting for it, — if it does not gush from the soul, 
and subdue the hearts of all hearers with original 
delight. Sit at it forever — glue together — cook 
up a hash from the feast of others, and blow the 
paltry flames out of your own little heap of ashes ! 
You may gain the admiration of children and 
apes, if you have a stomach for it ; but you will 



21 



never touch the hearts of others, if it does not 
flow fresh from your own. 

TTagxek. 

But it is elocution that makes the orator's suc- 
cess. 28 I feel well that I am still far behind hand. 

Faust. 

Try what can be got by honest means — Be no 
tinkling fool ! — Reason and good sense express 
themselves with little art. And when you are se- 
riously intent on saying something, is it necessary 
to hunt for words ? Your speeches, I say, which 
are so highly polished, in which ye crisp the 
shreds of humanity, 29 are unrefreshing as the mist- 
wind which whistles through the withered leaves 
in autumn. 

Wagxee. 

Oh, God ! art is long, and our m life is short. 
Often indeed during my critical studies, do I suf- 
fer both in head and heart. How hard it is to 
compass the means by which one mounts to the 
fountain-head ; and before he has got half way, 
a poor devil must probably die ! 

Faust. 

Is parchment the holy well, a drink from which 
allays the thirst forever ? Thou hast not gained 
the cordial, if it gushes not from thy own soul. 

TVagxer. 

Excuse me ! it is a great pleasure to transport 
one's self into the spirit of the times ; to see how 
a wise man has thought before us, and to what a 
glorious height we have at last carried it. 



22 



Faust. 

Oh, yes, far up to the very stars. My friend, 
the past ages are to us a book with seven seals. 30 
What you term the spirit of the times, is at bot- 
tom only your own spirit, in which the times are 
reflected. A miserable exhibition, too, it fre- 
quently is ! One runs away from it at the first 
glance ! A dirt-tub and a lumber-room ! — and, 
at best, a puppet-show play, with fine pragmatical 
saws, such as may happen to sound well in the 
mouths of the puppets ! 

Wagner. 

But the world ! the heart and mind of man ! 
every one would like to know something about 
that. 

Faust. 

Ay, what is called knowing ! Who dares call 
the child by its true name ? 31 The few who have 
ever known any thing about it, who sillily enough 
did not keep a guard over their full hearts, who 
revealed what they had felt and seen to the multi- 
tude, — these, time immemorial, have been cruci- 
fied and burned. I beg, friend — the night is far 
advanced — 1 for the present we must break off. 

Wagner. 

I could fain have kept waking to converse with 
you so learnedly. To-morrow, however, the first 
day of Easter, permit me a question or two more. 
Zealously have I devoted myself to study. True, 
I know much ; but I would fain know all. 

(Exit) 

Faust, alone. 
How all hope only quits not the brain, which 



23 



clings perseveringiy to trash, — gropes with greedy 
hand for treasures, and exults at finding earth- 
worms ! 

Dare such a human voice sound here, where all 
around me teemed with spirits ? Yet, ah, this 
once I thank thee, thou poorest of all the sons of 
earth. Thou hast snatched me from despair, 
which had wellnigh got the better of sense. — 
Alas ! the vision was so giant-great, that I felt 
quite shrunk into a dwarf. 

I, formed in God's own image, who already 
thought myself near to the mirror of eternal truth ; 
who revelled, in heaven's lustre and clearness, 
with the earthly part of me stripped off ; I, more 
than cherub, whose free spirit already, in its im- 
aginative soarings, aspired to glide through na- 
ture's veins, and, in creating, enjoy the life of 
gods — how must I atone for it ! a thunder-word 
has swept me wide away. 

I dare not presume to mate myself with thee. 
If I have possessed the power to draw thee to 
me, I had no power to hold thee. In that blest 
moment, I felt so little, so great; you fiercely 
thrust me back upon the uncertain lot of human- 
ity. Who will teach me ? What am I to shun ? 
Must I obey that impulse ? Alas ! our actions, 
equally with our sufferings, clog the course of our 
lives. 

Something foreign, and more foreign, is ever 
clinging to the noblest conception the mind can 
form. 32 When we have attained to the good of 
this world, what is better is termed falsehood and 
vanity. The glorious feelings which gave us life, 33 
grow torpid in the worldly throng. 

If phantasy, at one time, on daring whig and 



24 



full of Lope, dilates to infinity, — a little space is 
now enough for her, when venture after venture 
has been wrecked in the whirlpool of time. — 
Care straightway builds her nest in the depths of 
the heart, hatches vague tortures there, rocks her- 
self restlessly, and frightens joy and peace away. 
She is ever putting on some new mask ; she may 
appear as house and land, as wife and child, as 
fire, water, dagger, poison. You tremble before 
all that does not befall you, and must be always 
wailing what you never lose. 

I am not like the heavenly essences ; I feel it 
but too deeply. I am like the worm, which drags 
itself through the dust, — which, as it seeks its 
living in the dust, is crushed and buried by the 
step of the passer-by. 

Is it not dust ? all that in a hundred shelves 
contracts this lofty wall — the frippery, which, 
with its thousand forms of emptiness, cramps me 
up in this world of moths ? Is this the place for 
finding what I want ? Must I go on reading in a 
thousand books, that men have every where been 
miserable, that now and then there has been a 
happy one. 

Thou, hollow skull, what mean'st thou by that 
grin ? 34 but that thy brain, like mine, was once 
bewildered, — sought the bright day, and. with an 
ardent longing after truth, went miserably astray 
in the twilight ? 

Ye instruments, too, forsooth, are mocking me, 
with your wheels and cogs, cylinders and collars. 
I stood at the gate, ye were to be the key ; true, 
your wards are curiously twisted, but you raise 
not the bolt. Inscrutable at broad day, nature 
does not suffer herself to be robbed of her veil ; 



25 



and. what she does not choose to reveal to thy 
mind, thou wilt not wrest from her by levers and 
screws. 

Thou, antiquated lumber, which I have never 
used, thou art here, only because my father had 
occasion for you. Thou, old roll, hast been grow- 
ing smoke-besmeared since the dim lamp first 
smouldered at this desk. Far better would it be 
for me to have squandered away the little I pos- 
sess, than to be sweating here under the burden 
of that little. To possess what thou hast inherited 
from thy sires, enjoy it. 35 What one does not 
profit by, is an oppressive burden ; what the mo- 
ment brings forth, that only can it profit by. 

But why are my looks fastened on that spot : 
is that phial there a magnet to my eyes ? Why, 
of a sudden, is all so exquisitely bright, as when 
the moonlight breathes round one benighted in 
the wood ? 30 I hail thee, thou precious phial, 
which I now take down with reverence ; in thee 
I honor the wit and art of man. Thou abstrac- 
tion of kind soporific juices, thou concentration of 
all refined deadly essences, vouchsafe thy master 
a token of thy grace ! I see thee, and the pang 
is mitigated ; I grasp thee, and the struggle abates ; 
the spirit's flood-tide ebbs by degrees. I am 
beckoned out into the wide sea ; the glassy wave 
glitters at my feet ; another day invites to other 
shores. A chariot of fire waves, on light pinions, 
down to me. I feel prepared to permeate the 
realms of space on a new track, to new sjmeres of 
pure activity. This sublime existence, this god- 
like beatitude ! And thou, worm as thou wert but 
now, dost thou merit it ? Ay, only resolutely 
turn thy back on the lovely sun of this earth ! 



26 



Dare to tear up the gates which each willingly 
slinks by! Now is the time to show by deeds 
that man's dignity yields not to God's sublimity, — 
to quail not in the presence of that dark abyss, in 
which phantasy damns itself to its own torments 
— to struggle onwards to that pass, round whose 
narrow mouth all Hell is flaming; calmly to 
resolve upon the step, even at the risk of dropping 
into nothingness. 

Now come down, pure crystal goblet, on which 
I have not thought for many a year, — forth from 
your old receptacle ! You glittered at my father's 
festivities ; you gladdened the grave guests, as one 
pledged you to the other. The gorgeousness of 
the many artfully- wrought images, 37 — the drinker's 
duty to explain them in rhyme, and empty the 
contents at a draught, — remind me of many a 
night of my youth. I shall not now pass you to a 
neighbor ; I shall not now display my wit on your 
devices. Here is a juice which soon intoxicates* 
It fills your cavity with its brown flood. Be this 
last draught — which I have brewed, which I 
choose — quaffed, with my whole soul, as a solemn 
festal greeting to the morn. 

( He places the goblet to his mouth.) 
( The ringing of bells and singing of choruses.) 

Chorus of Angels. 

Christ is arisen ! 
Joy to the mortal, 
Whom the corrupting, 
Creeping, hereditary 
Imperfections enveloped. 



27 



Faust. 

What deep humming, what clear strain, draws 
irresistibly the goblet from my mouth ? Are ye 
hollow-sounding bells already proclaiming the first 
festal hour of Easter ? Are ye choruses already 
singing the comforting hymn, which once, round 
the night of the sepulchre, pealed forth, from 
angel lips, the assurance of a new covenant ? 

Chorus of Women. 
With spices 

Had we embalmed him ; 
We, his faithful ones, 
Had laid him out. 
Clothes and bands 
Cleanlily swathed we round ; 
Ah ! and we find 
Christ no longer here ! 

Chorus of Angels. 

Christ is arisen ! 
Happy the loving one, 
Who the afflicting, 
Wholesome and chastening 
Trial has stood ! 

Faust. 

Why, ye heavenly tones, subduing and soft, do 
you seek me out in the dust ? Peal out, where 
weak men are to be found ! I hear the message, 
but want faith. Miracle is the pet child of faith. 
I dare not aspire to those spheres from whence 
the glad tidings sound; and yet, accustomed to 
this sound from infancy, it even now calls me 
back to life. In other days, the kiss of heavenly 



28 



love descended upon me in the solemn stillness of 
the Sabbath ; then the full-toned bell sounded so 
fraught with mystic meaning, 38 and a prayer was 
burning enjoyment. A longing, inconceivably 
sweet, 39 drove me forth to wander over wood and 
plain, and. amidst a thousand burning tears, I felt 
a world rise up to me. This anthem harbingered 
the gay sports of youth, the unchecked happiness 
of spring festivity. — Recollection now holds me 
back, with child-like feeling, from the last decisive 
step. 40 Oh ! sound on. ye sweet heavenly strains ! 
The tear is flowing, earth has me again. 

Chorus of Discffles. 

The Buried One, 
Already on high, 
Living, sublime, 
Has gloriously raised himself ! 
He is. in reviving-bliss. 41 
Near to creating joy. 
Ah ! on earth's bosom 
Are we for suffering here ! 
He left us, his own. 
Languishing here below j 
Alas ! we weep over. 
Master, thy happy lot ! 

Chorus of Ax gels, 

Christ is arisen 

Out of corruption's lap. 

Joyfully tear yourselves 

Loose from your bonds ! 

Ye. in deeds giving praise to him. 

Love manifesting. 



23 



Living brethren-like, 
Travelling and preaching 
Bliss promising — 
You is the Master nieh, 

O 7 

For you is he here ! 42 



30 



BEFORE THE GATE. 

Promenaders of all hinds pass out. 

Some Mechanics, 
Why that way ? 

Others. 

We are going up to the Jagerhaus. 

The Former. 
But Ave are going to the mill, 

A Mechanic/ 
I advise you to go to the Wasserhof. 

A Second. 
The road is not pleasant. 

The Others. 
What shall you do ? 

A Third. 
I am going with the others. 

A Fourth. 
Come up to Burgdorf; you are there sure of 
finding the prettiest girls and the best beer, and 
rows of the first order. 



31 



A Fifth. 

You wild fellow, is your skin itching for the 
third time ? I don't like going there ; I have a 
horror of the place. 

Servant Girl. 
No, no, I shall return to the town. 

ANOTHER. 

We shall find him to a certainty by those 
poplars. 

The First. 
That is no great gain for me. He will walk by 
your side. With you alone does he dance upon 
the green. What have I to do with your pleas- 
ures? 

The Second. 

He is sure not to be alone to-day. The curly- 
head, he said, would be with him. 

Student. 

The devil ! how the brave wenches step out ; 
come along, brother, we must go with them. — 
Strong beer, stinging tobacco, and a girl in full 
trim. — that now is my taste. 

Citizens' Daughters. 
Now do you but look at those fine lads ! It is 
really a shame. They might have the best of 
company, and are running after these servant- 
girls. 

Second Student to the First. 

Not so fast ! there are two coming up behind ; 
they are trimly dressed out. One of them is my 
neighbor : I have a great liking for the girl, 



32 



They are walking in their quiet way, and yet will 
suffer us to join them in the end. 

The First. 

No, brother. I do not like to be under re- 
straint. Quick, lest we lose the game. The hand 
that twirls the mop on a Saturday, will fondle 
you best on Sundays. 

Townsman. 
No, the new Burgomaster is not to my taste ; 
now that he has become so, he is daily getting 
bolder ; and what is he doing for the town ? Is it 
not growing worse every day ? One is obliged to 
submit to more restraints than ever, and pay more 
than in any time before. 

Beggar sings. 

Ye good gentlemen, ye lovely ladies, so trimly 
dressed and rosy cheeked, be pleased to look upon 
me, to regard and relieve my wants. Do not 
suffer me to sing here in vain. The free-handed 
only is light-hearted. Be the day, which is a 
holyday to ail, a harvest-day to me. 

Another Townsman. 
I know nothing better on Sundays and holydays 
than a chat of war and war's alarms, when people 
are fighting, behind, far away in Turkey. 43 A 
man stands at the window, takes- off his glass, and 
sees the painted vessels 44 glide down the river ; 
then returns home glad at heart at eve, and 
blesses peace and times of peace. 

Third Townsman. 
Ay, neighbor, I have no objection to that ; 
they may break one another's heads, and turn 



33 



every thing topsy-turvy, for aught I care ; only 
let things at home remain a? they are. 

Ak Old Woman to the Citizens' Daughters. 

Heydey : how smart ! the pretty young crea- 
tures. Who would not fall in love with you ? 
Only not so proud ! it is all very well ; and what 
you wish, I should know how to put you in the 
way of getting. 

Citizen's Daughter. 
Come along, Agatha. I take care not to be 
seen with such witches in public ; true, on Saint 
Andrew's eve, 45 she showed me my future sweet- 
heart hi flesh and blood. 

The Other. 

She showed me mine in the glass, soldier-like, 
with other bold fellows ; I look around, I seek 
him every where, but I can never meet with him. 

Soldier. 

Towns with lofty 
Walls and battlements, 
Maidens with proud 
Scornful thoughts, 
I fain would win. 
Bold the adventure, 
Noble the reward. 

And the trumpets 

Are our su mm oners 

As to joy 

So to death. 

That is a storming. 

That is a life for you ! 

5 



34 



Maidens and towns 
Must surrender. 
Bold the adventure. 
Noble the reward — 
And the soldiers 
Are off. 

Faust and Wagner, 
Faust. 

River and rivulet are freed from ice by the gay, 
quickening glance of the spring. 40 The joys of 
hope are budding in the dale. Old winter, in his 
weakness, has retreated to the bleak mountains ; 
from thence he sends, in his flight, nothing but 
impotent showers of hail, in flakes, over the green- 
growing meadows. But the Sun endures no white. 
Production and growth are every where stirring ; 
he is about to enliven every thing with colors. 
The landscape wants flowers ; he takes gayly- 
dressed men and women instead. Turn and look 
back, from this rising ground, upon the town. 
Forth from the gloomy portal presses a motley 
crowd. Every one suns himself so willingly 
to-day. They celebrate the rising of the Lord, 
for they themselves have arisen ; — from the damp 
rooms of mean houses, from the bondage of me- 
chanical drudgery, from the confinement of gables 
and roofs, from the stifling narrowness of streets, 
from the venerable gloom of churches, are they 
raised up to the open light of day. But look, 
look ! how quickly the mass scatters itself through 
the gardens and fields ; how the river, broad and 
long, tosses many a merry bark upon its surface, 
and how this last wherry, overladen almost to 
sinking, moves off. Even from the farthest paths 



35 



of the mountain, gay-colored dresses glance upon 
us. I hear already the bustle of the village ; this 
is the true heaven of the multitude ; big and little 
are huzzaing joyously. Here, I am a man — 
here, I may be one. 

Wagner. 

To walk with you, Sir Doctor, is honor and 
profit. But I would not lose myself alone, be- 
cause I am an enemy to coarseness of every sort. 
Fiddling, shouting, skittle-playing, are sounds 
thoroughly detestable to me. People run riot as 
if the devil was driving them, and call it merri- 
ment, call it singing. 

Rustics wide?- the Lime Tree* 

Dance and Song. 

The swain dressed himself out for the dance. 
With party-colored jacket, ribbon and garland, 
Smartly was he dressed ! 
The ring round the lime-tree was already full, 
And all were dancing like mad. 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
Merrily went the fiddle-stick* 

He pressed eagerly in, 
Gave a maiden a push 
With his elbow : 
The buxom girl turned round 
And said — " Now that I call stupid." 

Huzza! Huzza! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
" Don't be so rude/*' 



36 



Yet nimbly sped it in the ring : 
They turned right, they turned left, 
And all the petticoats were flying. 
They grew red, they grew warm, 
And rested panting arm-in-arm, 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la. 
And elbow on hip. 

" Have done now ! don't be so fond ! 
How many a man has cajoled and 
Deceived his betrothed." 
But he coaxed her aside, 
And far and wide echoed from the lime-tree 

Huzza ! Huzza ! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
Shouts and fiddle-sticks. 

Old Peasant. 

Doctor, this is really good of you, not to scorn 
us to-day, and, great scholar as you are, to mingle 
in this crowd. Take then the fairest jug, which 
we have filled with fresh liquor : I pledge you in 
it, and pray aloud that it may do more than 
quench your thirst — may the number of drops 
which it holds be added to your days ! 

Faust. 

I accept the refreshing draught, and wish you 
all health and happiness in return. ( The people 
collect round Mm.) 

Old Peasant. 

Of a surety it is well done of you, to appear on 
this glad day. You have been our friend in evil 
days, too, before now. Many a one stands here 



37 



alive whom your father tore from the hot fever's 
rage, when he stayed the pestilence. You too, at 
that time a young man, went into every sick- 
house : many a dead body was borne forth, but 
you came out safe. You endured many a sore 
trial. The Helper above helped the helper. 

All. 

Health to the tried friend — may he long have 
the power to help ! 

Faust. 

Bend before Him on high, who teaches how to 
help, and sends help. 

(He proceeds with Wagner.) 
Wagner. 

What a feeling, great man, must you experi- 
ence at the honors paid you by this multitude. 
Oh, happy he who can turn his gifts to so good 
an account. The father points you out to his 
boy ; all ask, and press, and hurry round. The 
fiddle stops, the dancer pauses. As you go by, 
they range themselves in rows, caps fly into the 
air, and they all but bend the knee as if the Host 
were passing. 

Faust. 

Only a few steps farther, up to that stone yon- 
der ! Here we will rest from our walk. Here 
many a time have I sat, thoughtful and solitary, 
and mortified myself with prayer and fasting. — 
Rich in hope, firm in faith, I thought to extort 
the stoppage of that pestilence from the Lord of 
Heaven, with tears, and sighs, and wringing of 
hands. The applause of the multitude now sounds 
like derision in my ears. Oh ! couldst thou read 



38 



in my inmost soul, how little father and son mer- 
ited such an honor! My father was a worthy, 
sombre man, who, honestly, but in his own way, 
meditated, with whimsical application, on nature 
and her hallowed circles ; who, in the company 
of adepts, shut himself up in the dark laboratory, 
and fused contraries together after numberless 
recipes. There was a red lion, 47 a bold lover, 
married to the lily in the tepid bath, and then 
both, with open flame, tortured from one bridal 
chamber to another. If the young queen, with 
varied hues, then appeared in the glass — this was 
the medicine ; the patients died, and no one in- 
quired who recovered. Thus did we, with our 
hellish electuaries, rage in these vales and moun- 
tains far worse than the pestilence. I myself 
have given the poison to thousands ; they pined 
away, and I must survive to hear the reckless 
murderers praised ! 

Wagner. 

How can you make yourself uneasy on that 
account? Is it not enough for a good man to 
practise conscientiously and scrupulously the art 
that has been intrusted to him ? If, in youth, 
you honor your father, you will willingly learn 
from him : if, in manhood, you extend the bounds 
of knowledge, your son may mount still higher 
than you. 

Faust. 

Oh, happy he, who can still hope to emerge 
from this sea of error ! We would use the very 
thing we know not, and cannot use what we know. 
But let us not imbitter the blessing of this hour 
by such melancholy reflections. See, how the 



39 



green-girt cottages shimmer in the setting Sun ! 
He bends and sinks — the day is over-lived. 
Yonder he hurries off, and quickens other life. 
Oh! that I have no wing to lift me from the 
ground, to struggle after, forever after, him ! I 
should see, in everlasting evening beams, the stilly 
world at my feet, — every height on fire, 48 — 
every vale in repose, — the silver brook flowing 
into golden streams. 49 The rugged mountain, 
with all its dark defiles, would not then break my 
god-like course. Already the sea, with its heated 
bays, opens on my enraptured sight. Yet the god 
seems at last to sink away. But the new impulse 
wakes. I hurry on to drink his everlasting light, 
— the day before me and the night behind 50 — the 
heavens above, and under me the waves. — A 
glorious dream ! as it is passing, he is gone. 
Alas, no bodily wing will so easily keep pace 
with the wings of the mind. 51 Yet it is the inborn 
tendency of our being for feeling to strive up- 
wards and onwards ; when, over us, lost in the 
blue expanse, the lark sings its trilling lay: 
when, over rugged pine-covered heights, the out- 
spread eagle soars ; and, over marsh and sea, the 
crane struggles onward to her home. 

Wagner. 

I myself have often had my capricious mo- 
ments, but I never yet experienced an impulse 
of the kind. One soon looks one's fill of woods 
and fields. I shall never envy the wings of the 
bird. How differently the pleasures of the mind 
bear us, from book to book, from page to page. 
With them, winter nights become cheerful and 
bright, a happy life warms every limb, and, ah ! 



40 



when you actually unroll a precious manuscript, 
all heaven comes down to you. 

Faust. 

Thou art conscious only of • one impulse. Oh, 
never become acquainted with the other ! Two 
souls, alas, dwell in my breast : the one struggles 
to separate itself from the other. The one clings 
with persevering fondness to the world, with 
organs like cramps of steel ; the other lifts itself 
energetically from the mist to the realms of an 
exalted ancestry. 52 Oh ! if there be spirits hover- 
ing in the air, ruling 'twixt earth and heaven, 
descend ye, from your golden atmosphere, and 
lead me off to a new variegated life. Ay, were 
but a magic mantle mine, and could it bear me 
into foreign lands, I would not part with it for the 
costliest garments — not for a king's mantle. 

Wagner. 

Invoke not the well-known troop, which diffuses 
itself, streaming, through the atmosphere, and 
prepares danger in a thousand forms, from every 
quarter, to man. 53 The sharp-fanged spirits, with 
arrowy tongues, press upon you from the north ; 
from the east, they come parching, and feed upon 
your lungs. If the south sends from the desert 
those which heap fire after fire upon thy brain, 
the west brings the swarm which only refreshes 
to drown fields, meadows, and yourself. They 
are fond of listening, ever keenly alive for mis- 
chief : they obey with pleasure, because they take 
pleasure to delude : they feign to be sent from 
heaven, and lisp like angels when they lie. But 
let us be going ; the earth is already grown grey, 
the air is chill, the mist is falling ; it is only in 



41 

tlie evening that we set a proper value on our 
homes. Why do you stand still, and gaze with 
astonishment thus ? What can thus attract your 
attention in the gloaming ? 

Faust. 

Seest thou the black dog ranging through the 
corn and stubble ? 

Wagxer. 

I saw him long ago ; he did not strike me as 
any thing particular. 

Faust. 

Mark him well! for what do you take the 
brute ? 

Wagxer. 

For a poodle, who, in poodle-fashion, is puzzling 
out the track of his master. 

Faust. 

Dost thou mark how, in wide spiral curves, he 
quests round and ever nearer us ? and, if I err 
not, a line of fire follows upon his track. 54 

Wagner. 

I see nothing but a black poodle ; you may be 
deceived by some optical illusion. 

Faust. 

It appears to me, that he is drawing light mag- 
ical nooses, to form a toil around our feet. 

Wagxer. 

I see Mm bounding hesitatingly and shyly 
around us, because, instead of his master, he sees 
two strangers. 




42 
Faust. 

The circle grows narrow; lie is already close. 
Wagner. 

You see it is a clog, and no spirit. He growls 
and hesitates, crouches on his belly and wags with 
his tail — all as dogs are wont to do. 

Faust. 
Come to us ! — Hither ! 

Wagner. 

It "s a droll creature. Stand still, and he will 
sit on his hind legs; speak to him, and he will 
jump up on you ; lose aught, and he will fetch it 
to you, and jump into the water for your stick. 

Faust. 

I believe you are right ; I find no trace of a 
spirit, and all is the result of training. 

Wagner, 

Even a wise man may become attached to a 
dog when he is well brought up. 55 And he richly 
deserves all your favor, — he, the accomplished 
pupil of your students, as he is. 

( They enter the gate of the town.) 



48 



STUDY. 

Faust entering with the poodle. 

I have left plain and meadow veiled in deep 
night, which wakes the better soul within us with 
a holy feeling of foreboding awe. Wild desires 
are now sunk in sleep, with every deed of vio- 
lence : the love of man is stirring — the love of 
God is stirring now. 

Be quiet, poodle, run not hither and thither. 
What are you snuffling at on the threshold ? Lie 
down behind the stove ; there is my best cushion 
for you. As without, upon the mountain-path, 
you amused us by running and gambolling, so 
now receive my kindness as a welcome quiet 
guest. 

Ah ! when the lamp is again burning friendlily 
in our narrow cell, then all becomes clear in our 
bosom, ■ — in the heart that knows itself. Reason 
begins to speak, and hope to bloom, again ; we 
yearn for the streams — oh yes, for the fountain, 
of life. 

Growl not, poodle ; tl^e brutish sound ill har- 
monizes with the hallowed tones which now pos- 
sess my whole soul. We are accustomed to see 
men deride what they do not understand 56 — to 
see them snarl at the good and beautiful, which is 
often troublesome to them. Is the clog disposed 
to snarl at it like them ? But, ah ! I feel already 
that, much as I may wish for it, contentment 



44 

wells no longer from my breast. Yet why must 
the stream be so soon dried up, and we again He 
thirsting? I have had so much experience of 
that ! This want, however, admits of being com- 
pensated. We learn to prize that which is not of 
this earth; we long for revelation, which nowhere 
burns more majestically or more beautifully than 
in the New Testament. ~' 7 I feel impelled to open 
the original text — to translate for once, with up- 
right feeling, the sacred original into my darling 
German. 

( He opens a volume, and disjwses himself for 
the task.) 

It is written : " In the beginning was the 
Word." Here I am already at a stand — who 
will help me on? I cannot possible value the 
Word so highly ; I must translate it differently, if 
I am truly inspired by the spirit. It is written : 
"In the beginning was the Sense." Consider 
well the first line, that your pen be not over has- 
ty. Is it the sense that influences and produces 
every thing ? It should stand thus : "In the be- 
ginning was the Power." Yet, even as I am 
writing down this, something warns me not to 
keep to it. The spirit comes to my aid ! At 
once I see my way, and write confidently : " In 
the beginning was the Deed." 

If I am to share the ^chamber with you, poo- 
dle, cease your howling — cease your barking. I 
cannot endure so troublesome a companion near 
to me. One of us two must quit the cell. It is 
with reluctance that I withdraw the rights of 
hospitality ; the door is open — the way is clear 
for you. But what do I see ! Can that come to 
pass by natural means ? Is it shadow « — is it re- 



ality ? How long and broad my poodle grows ! 
He raises himself powerfully; that is not the 
form of a dog ! What a phantom I have brought 
into the house ! — he looks already like a hippo- 
potamus, with fiery eyes, terrific teeth. Ah! I 
am sure of thee ! Solomon's key is good for such 
a half-hellish brood. 

Spirits in the Passage. 

One is caught within ! 
Stay without, follow none ! 
As hi the gin the fox, 
Quakes an old lynx of hell. 

But take heed ! 
Hover thither, hover back, 

Up and down, 
And he is loose ! 
If ye can aid him, 
Leave him not in the lurch ! 
For he has already done 
Much to serve us. 

Faust. 

First to confront the beast, 
Use I the spell of the four : 

Salamander 58 shall glow, 

Undine twine, 

Sylph vanish, 

Kobold stir himself. 
Who did not know 

The elements, 
Their power and properties. 

Were no master 

Over the spirits. 



46 



Vanish in flame, 

Salamander ! 
Rushingly flow together, 
Undine ! 
» Shine in meteor beauty, 
* Sylph ! 

Bring homely help, 
Incubus 1 Incubus ! 
Step forth and make an end of it. 

No one of the four sticks in the "beast. He 
lies undisturbed and grins at me. I have not yet 
made him feel. Thou shalt hear me conjure 
stronger. 

Art thou, fellow, 

A scapeling from hell ! 

Then see this sign ! 

To which bend the dark troop. 

He is already swelling, and bristling his hair. 

Reprobate ! 

Can'st thou read him ? — 
The unoriginated, 
Unpronounceable, 
Through all heaven diffused, 
Vilely transpierced ? 

Driven behind the stove, it is swelling like an 
elephant ; it fills the whole space, it is about to 
vanish in the mist. Rise not to the ceiling? / 
Down at thy master's feet! Thou see'st I do 
not threaten in vain. I will scorch thee with 
holy fire. Wait not for the thrice glowing light. 
"Wait not for the strongest of my spells. 




47 

Mephistopheles. 

( Comes forward as the ?nist sinks* in the dress 
of a travelling scholar, 59 from behind the 
stove.) 

Wherefore sucli a fuss ? What may be your 
pleasure ? 

Faust. 

This then was the kernel of the poodle. A 
travelling scholar? The casus makes me laugh. 

Mephistopheles. 
I salute your learned worship. You have 
made me sweat with a vengeance. 

Faust. 
What is thy name ? 

Mephistopheles. 
The question strikes me as trifling for one who 
rates the Word so low ; who, far estranged from 
all mere outward seeming, looks only to the es- 
sence of things. 

Faust. 

With such gentlemen as you, one may gener- 
ally learn the essence from the name, since it 
appears but too plainly if your name be fly-god, 60 
destroyer, liar. Now, in a word, who art thou, 
then ? * 

Mephistopheles. 
A part of that power, which is ever willing 
evil and ever producing good. 

Faust. 

What is meant by this riddle ? 



Q 



48 



Mephistopheles. 
I am the spirit which constantly denies, and 
that rightly ; for every thing that has originated, 
deserves to be annihilated. Therefore better 
were it that nothing should originate. Thus, all 
that you call sin, destruction, in a word, Evil, is 
my proper element. 

Faust. 

You call yourself a part, and yet stand whole 
before me. 

Mephistopheles. 
I tell thee the modest truth. Although man, 
that microcosm of folly, commonly esteems him- 
self a whole, I am a part of the part, which in 
the beginning was all ; 01 a part of the darkness 
which brought forth light, ■ — the proud light, 
which now contests her ancient rank and space 
with mother night. But he succeeds not ; since, 
strive as he will, he cleaves, as if bound, to 
bodies. He streams from bodies, he gives beau- 
ty to bodies, a body stops him in his course, and 
so, I hope, he will perish with bodies before 
long. 

Faust. 

Now I know thy dignified calling. Thou art 

not able to destroy on a great scale, and so art 
just beginning on a small one. 

Mephistopheles. 

And, to say truth, I have made little progress 
in it. That which is opposed to nothing 02 — the 
something, this clumsy world, much as I have 
tried already, I have not yet learnt how to come 



49 



at it, — with waves, storms, earthquakes, fire. — 
Sea and land remain undisturbed, after all ! And 
the damned set, the brood of brutes and men, 
there is no such thing as getting the better 
of them, neither. How many I have already 
buried ! And new, fresh blood is constantly cir- 
culating! Things go on so — it is enough to 
make one mad! From air, water, earth 63 — in 
wet, dry, hot, cold — germs by thousands evolve 
themselves. Had I not reserved fire, I should 
have nothing apart for myself, 

Faust. 

So thou opposest thy cold devil's fist, clenched 
in impotent malice, to the ever stirring, the be- 
neficent creating power. Try thy hand at some- 
thing else, wondrous son of Chaos. 

Mephistopheles. 
We will think about it in good earnest — more 
of that anon ! Might I be permitted this time to 
depart ? 

Faust. 

I see not why you ask. I have now made 
acquaintance with you ; call on me in future as 
you feel inclined. Here is the window, here the 
door ; there is also a chimney for you. 

Mephistopheles. 
To confess the truth, a small obstacle prevents 
me from walking out — the wizard-foot upon your 
threshold. 

Faust. 

The Pentagram embarrasses you? 64 Tell 
me then, thou child of hell, if that repels thee. 
6 



50 

how cam'st thou in? How was such a spirit 
entrapped ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark it well ; it is not well drawn ; one angle r 
the outward one, is, as thou see'st, a little open. 

Faust. 

It is a lucky accident. Thou shouldst be my 
prisoner then ? This is a chance hit. 

Mephistopheles. 
The poodle observed nothing when he jumped 
in. The thing looks differently now ; the devil 
cannot get out. 

Faust. 

But why do you not go through the window ? 

Mephistopheles. 
It is a law binding on devils and phantoms, 
that they must go out the same way they stole 
in. The first is free to us ; we are slaves as re- 
gards the second* 

Faust. 

Hell itself has its laws ? I am glad of it ; in 
that case a compact, a binding one, may be made 
with you gentlemen ? 65 

Mephistopheles. 

What is promised, that shalt thou enjoy to the 
letter ; not the smallest deduction shall be made 
from it. But this is not to be discussed so sum- 
marily, and we will speak of it the next time. 
But I must earnestly beg of you to let me go this 
once, 



51 



Faust* 

Wait yet another moment, and tell me some- 
thing worth telling. 66 

Mephistopheles. 
Let me go now ! I will soon come back ; you 
may then question me as you like, 

Faust. 

I have laid no snare for thee ; thou hast run 
into the net of thy own free will. Let whoever 
has got hold of the devil, keep hold of him ; he 
will not catch him a second time in a hurry. / 

Mephistopheles. 
If you like, I am ready to stay and keep you 
company here, but upon condition that I may 
beguile the time properly for you by my arts. 

Faust. 

I shall attend with pleasure ; you may do so, 
provided only that the art be an agreeable one. 

Mephistopheles. 
My friend, you will gain more for your senses 
in this one hour, than in the whole year's mo- 
notony. What the delicate spirits sing to you, 
the lovely images which they call up, are not an 
unsubstantial play of enchantment. Your smell 
will be charmed, you will then delight your palate, 
and then your feelings will be entranced. No 
preparation is necessary ; we are all assembled — 
strike up ! 

Spirits. 
Vanish ye dark 
Arched ceilings above £ 



52 



More charmingly look in 
The friendly blue sky ! . 
Were the dark clouds 
Melted away ! 
Little stars sparkle, 
Softer suns shine in. 
Ether ial beauty 
Of the children of heaven. 
Tremulous bending 

Hovers across; 
Longing desire 

Follows after. 
And the fluttering 
Ribbons of drapery 
Cover the plains, 
Cover the bower, 
Where lovers, 
Deep in thought, 
Give themselves for life. 
Bower on bower ! 
Sprouting tendrils ! 
Down- weighing grapes 
Gush into the vat 
Of the hard-squeezing press. 
The foaming wines 
Gush in brooks, 
Rustle through . 
Pure, precious stones, 
Leave the heights 
Behind them lying, 
Broaden to seas 
Around the charm of 
Green-growing hills. 
And the winged throng 
Sips happiness, 



53 



Flies to meet the sun, 
Flies to meet the bright 
Isles, which dancingly 
Float on the waves ; 
Where we hear 
Shouting in choruses, 
Where we see 
Dancers on meads ; 
In th' open air 
All disporting alike. 
Some are clambering 
Over the heights, 
Others are swimming 
Over the seas, 
Others are hovering — 
All towards the life, 
All towards the far away 
Loving stars of 
Bliss-giving grace. 

Mephistopheles. 

He slumbers ! Well done, my airy, delicate 
youngsters ! Ye have fairly sung him to sleep. 
I am your debtor for this concert. Thou art not 
yet the man to hold fast the devil ! Play round 
him with sweet dreamy visions ; plunge him in a 
sea of illusion. But to break the spell of this 
threshold I need a rat's tooth. I have not to 
conjure long ; one is already rustling hither, and 
will hear me in a moment. The lord of rats and 
mice, of flies, frogs, bugs, and lice, commands thee 
to venture forth and gnaw this threshold so soon 
as he has smeared it with oil. Thou com'st hop- , 
ping forth already ! Instantly to the work ! The 
point which repelled me is towards the front on 



54 



the ledge ; one bite more, and it is done. — Now 
Faust, dream on, till we meet again. 

Faust, waking. 
Am I then once again deceived? Does the 
throng of spirits vanish thus ? Was it in a lying 
dream that the devil appeared to me, and was it 
a poodle that escaped ? 



55 



STUDY. 

Faust ; Mephistopheles, 
Faust. 

Does any one knock ? Come in ! Who wants 
to disturb me again ? 

Mephistopheles. 

It is I. 

Faust. 

Come in. 

Mephistopheles. 
You must say so three times. 

Faust. 

Come in, then ! 

Mephistopheles. 
So far, so good. We shall go on very well 
together, I hope ; for, to chase away your fancies, 
I am here, like a youth of condition, in a coat of 
scarlet laced with gold, a mantle of stiff silk, a 
cock's feather in my hat, and a long pointed sword 
at my side. And to make no more words about 
it, my advice to you is to array yourself in the 
same manner immediately, that unrestrained, 
emancipated, you may try what life is. 

Faust. 

In every dress, I dare say, I shall feel the tor- 
ture of the contracted life of this earth. I am too 



56 



old for mere play, too young to be without a 
wish. 67 What can the world afford me ! 68 — " Thou 
shalt renounce ! " " Thou shalt renounce ! " — 
That is the eternal song which is rung in every 
one's ears ; which, our whole life long, every hour 
is hoarsely singing to us. In the morning I wake 
only to horror. I would fain weep bitter tears to 
see the day, which, in its course, will not accom- 
plish a wish for me ; no, not one ; which, with 
wayward captiousness, weakens even the present- 
iment of every joy, and disturbs the creation of 
my busy breast by a thousand ugly realities. 
Then again, at the approach of night, I must 
stretch myself in anguish on my couch ; here, too, 
no rest is vouchsafed to me ; wild dreams are sure 
to harrow me up. The God that dwells in my 
bosom, that can stir my inmost soul, that sways 
all my energies — he is powerless as regards 
things without; and thus existence is a load to 
me, death an object of earnest prayer, and life 
detestable. 

Mephistopheles. 

And yet death is never an entirely welcome 

guest 

Faust. 

Oh! happy the man around whose brows he 
wreathes the bloody laurel in the glitter of vic- 
tory — whom, after the maddening dance, he finds 
in a maiden's arms. Oh, that I had sunk away, 
enrapt, examinate, before the great spirit's power I 

Mephistopheles. 

And yet a certain person did not drink a cer- 
tain brown juice on a certain night, 



57 



Faust. 

Plajdng the spy, it seems, is thy amusement, 

Mephistopheles. 
I am not omniscient ; but I know much* 
Faust. 

Since a sweet familiar tone drew me from those 
thronging horrors, 69 and played on what of child- 
like feeling remained in me with the concording 
note of happier times, — my curse on every thing 
that entwines the soul with its jugglery, and 
chains it to this den of wretchedness with blind- 
ing and flattering influences. Accursed, first, be 
the lofty opinion in which the mind wraps itself ! 
Accursed, the blinding of appearances, by which 
our senses are oppressed ! Accursed, what plays 
the pretender to us in dreams, — the cheat of 
glory, of the lasting of a name ! Accursed, what 
flatters us as property, as wife and child, as slave 
and plough! Accursed be Mammon when he 
stirs us to bold deeds with treasures, when he 
smooths our couch for indolent delight ! Accursed, 
the balsam-juice of the grape ! Accursed, that 
highest grace of love ! 70 Accursed be Hope, 
accursed be Faith, and accursed, above all, be 
Patience ! 

Chorus of Spirits ( invisible )> 
Woe, woe, 

Thou hast destroyed it, 

The beautiful world, 

With violent hands ; 

It tumbles, it falls abroad. 

A demi-god has shattered it to pieces ! 

We bear away 

The wrecks into nothingness. 



58 



And wail over 

The beauty that is lost. 

Mighty 

Among the sons of earth, 

Proudlier 

Build it again, 

B uild it up in thy bosom ! 

A new career of life, 

With unstained sense 

Begin, 

And new lays 

Shall peal out thereupon. 

Mephistopheles. 
These are the little ones of my train. Listen* 
how, with wisdom beyond their years, they coun- 
sel you to pleasure and action. Out into the 
world, away from solitariness, where the senses 
and the juices of life stagnate — would they fain 
lure you. 

Cease to trifle with your grief — which, like a 
vulture, feeds upon your vitals. The worst com- 
pany will make you feel that you are a man 
amongst men. Yet I do not mean to thrust you 
amongst the pack. I am none of your great 
men ; but if, united with me, you will wend your 
way through life, I will readily accommodate 
myself to be yours upon the spot. I am your 
companion; and, if it suits you, your servant, 
your slave ! 

Faust. 

And what am I to do for you in return ? 71 

Mephistopheles, 
For that you have still a long day of grace. 



59 



Faust. 

No, no ; the devil is an egotist, and is not 
likely to do, for God's sake, what may advantage 
another. Speak the condition plainly out ; such 
a servant is a dangerous inmate. 

Mephistopheles. 
I will bind myself to your service here, and 
never sleep nor slumber at your call. When we 
meet on the other side, you shall do as much for 
me. 

Faust. 

I care little about the other side: if you first 
knock this world to pieces, the other may arise 
afterwards if it will. My joys flow from this 
earth, and this sun shines upon my sufferings : if 
I can only separate myself from them, what will 
and can, may come to pass. I will hear no 
more about it — whether there be hating and lov- 
ing in the world to come, and whether there be 
an Above or Below in those spheres like our 
own, 

Mephistopheles. 

In this sense, you may venture. Bind your- 
self ; and during these days, you shall be delight^ 
ed by my arts ; I will give thee what no human 
being ever saw yet.. 

Faust. 

What, poor devil, wilt thou give ? Was the 
mind of a man, in its high aspiring, ever compre- 
hended by the like of thee ? But if thou hast 
food which never satisfies ; 72 ruddy gold which, 
volatile, like quicksilver, melts away in the hand ; 
a game, at which one nevef wins ; a maiden, who* 



60 



on my breast, is already ogling my neighbor ; the 
bright godlike joy of honor, which vanishes like a 
meteor ! — Show me the fruit which rots before it 
is plucked, and trees which every day grow green 
anew. 

Mephistopheles. 

Such a task affrights me not. I have such 
treasures at my disposal. But, my good friend, 
the time will come round when we may feast on 
what is really good in peace. 

Faust. 

If ever I stretch myself, calm and composed, 
upon a couch, be there at once an end of me. If 
thou canst ever flatteringly delude me into being 
pleased with myself — if thou canst cheat me with 
enjoyment, be that day my last. I offer the 
wager. 

Mephistopheles. 

Done ! 

Faust. 

And my hand upon it ! If I ever say to the 
passing moment — " Stay, thou art so fair ! " then 
mayst thou cast me into chains ; then will I read- 
ily perish ; then may the death-bell toll ; then art 
thou free from thy service. The clock may stand, 
the index hand may fall : be time a thing no more 
for me ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Think well of it ; we shall bear it in mind. 
Faust. 

You have a perfect right so to do. I have 
formed no rash estimate of myself. As I remain. 



01 



I am a slave ; what care I, whether thine or 
another' 

Mephistopheles. 

This very day, at the doctor's feast, 73 I shall 
enter upon my duty as servant. Only one thing 
— to guard against accidents, I must trouble you 
for a line or two. 

Faust. 

Pedant, dost thou too, require writing ? Hast 
thou never known man nor man's word? Is it 
not enough that my word of mouth disposes of my 
days for all eternity ? Does not the world rave 
on in all its currents, and am I to be bound by a 
promise ? Yet this prejudice is implanted in our 
hearts : who would willingly free himself from it ? 
Happy the man who bears truth pure in his 
breast ; he will never have cause to repent any 
sacrifice ! But a parchment, written and stamp- 
ed, is a spectre which all shrink from. The word 
dies away in the very pen ; in wax and leather is 
the mastery. What, evil spirit, wouldst thou of 
me ? Brass, marble, parchment, paper ? Shall I 
write with style, graver, pen? I leave the 
choice to thee. 

Mephistopheles. 

How can you put yourself in a passion and 
overwork your oratory in this manner? Any 
scrap will do : you will subscribe your name with 
a drop of blood. 

Faust. 

If this will fully satisfy you, the whim shall be 
complied with. 



02 



Mephistopheles. 
Blood is quite a peculiar sort of juice. 

Faust. 

But fear not that I shall break this compact 
What I promise, is precisely what all my ener- 
gies are striving for. I have aspired too high: 
I belong only to thy class. The Great Spirit has 
spurned me ; Nature shuts herself against me. 
The thread of thought is snapped; I have long 
loathed every sort of knowledge. Let us quench 
our glowing passions in the depths of sensuality ; 
let every wonder be forthwith prepared beneath 
the hitherto impervious veil of sorcery. Let us 
cast ourselves into the rushing of time, into the 
rolling of accident. There pain and pleasure, 
success and disappointment, may succeed each 
other as they will — man's proper element is rest- 
less activity. 

Mephistopheles. 
Nor end nor limit is prescribed to you. If it 
is your pleasure to sip the sweets of every thing, 
to snatch at all as you fly by, much good may it 
do you — only fall to, and don't be coy. 

Faust. 

I tell thee again, pleasure is not the question : x 
I devote myself to the intoxicating whirl ; — to 
the most agonizing enjoyment — to enamoured 
hate — to animating vexation. My breast, cured 
of the thirst of knowledge, shall henceforth bare 
itself to every pang. I will enjoy in my own 
heart's core all that is parcelled out amongst 
mankind ; grapple in spirit with the highest and 
deepest ; heap the weal and woe of the whole 



63 



trace upon my breast, and thus dilate my own in- 
dividuality to theirs, and perish also, in the end, 
like them. 

Mephistopheles, 
Oh, believe me, who many thousand years 
have chewed the cud on this hard food, that 
from the cradle to the bier, no human being di- 
gests the old leaven. Believe a being like me r 
this Whole is only made for a god. He exists 
in an eternal halo ; us he has brought forth into 
darkness ; and only day and night are proper for 
you. 

Faust. 

But I will. 

Mephistopheles* 
That is well enough to say ! But I am only 
troubled about one thing ; time is short, art is long. 
I should suppose you would suffer yourself to be 
instructed. Take a poet to counsel; make the 
gentleman set his imagination at work, and heap 
all noble qualities on your honored head, — -the 
lion's courage, the stag's swiftness, the fiery blood 
of the Italian, the enduring firmness of the 
North. Make him find out the secret of com- 
bining magnanimity with cunning, and of being 
in love, after a set plan, with the burning desires 
of youth. I myself should like to know such a 
gentleman — I would call him Mr, Microcosm. 

Faust, 

What, then, am I, if it be not possible to attain 
the crown of humanity, which every sense is 
striving for ? 



64 



Mephistopheles. 
Thou art in the end — what thou art. Put on 
wigvS with millions of curls — set thy foot upon 
ell-high soclfe, — thou abidest ever what thou art. 

Faust. 

I feel it ; in vain have I scraped together and 
accumulated all the treasures of the human mind 
upon myself; and when I sit down at the end, 
still no new power wells up within : I am not a 
hair's breadth higher/ 4 nor a whit nearer the In- 
finite* 

Mephistopheles. 
My good Sir, you see things precisely as they 
are ordinarily seen ; we must manage matters 
better, before the joys of life pass away from us. 
What the deuce ! you have surely hands and 

feet and head and J 5 And what I enjoy 

with spirit, is that then the less my own ? If I 
can pay for six horses, are not their powers 
mine ? I dash along and am a proper man, as if 
I had four-and-twenty legs. 70 Quick, then, have 
done with poring, and straight away into the 
world with me. I tell you, a fellow that specu- 
lates is like a brute driven in a circle on a barren 
heath by an evil spirit, whilst fair green meadow 
lies every where around. 

Faust. 

How shall we set about it ? 

Mephistopheles. 
We will just start and take our chance. What 
a place of martyrdom ! what a precious life to 
lead ! — wearying one's self and a set of young- 



65 



sters to death. Leave that to your neighbor, 
Mr. Paunch ! Why will you plague yourself to 
thrash straw ? The best that you can know, you 
dare not tell the lads. Even now I hear one in 
the passage. 

Faust. 

I cannot possibly see him. 

Mephistopheles. 

The poor boy has waited long; he must not 
be sent away disconsolate. Come, give me your 
cap and gown : the mask will become me to ad- 
miration. (He changes Ms dress.) 

Now trust to my wit. I require but a quarter 
of an hour. In the mean time prepare for our 
pleasant trip. ( Exit Faust.) 

Mephistopheles in Faust's gown. 
Only despise reason and knowledge, the high- 
est strength of humanity ; only permit thyself 
to be confirmed in delusion and sorcery-work by 
the spirit of lies, — and I have thee uncondition- 
ally. Fate has given him a spirit which is ever 
pressing onwards uncurbed, - — whose overstrained 
striving o'erleaps the joys of earth. 77 Him will I 
drag through the wild passages of life, through 
vapid unmeaningness. He shall sprawl, stand 
amazed, stick fast, — and meat and drink shall 
hang, for his insatiableness, before his craving 
lips : he shall pray for refreshment in vain ; and 
had he not already given himself up to the devil, 
he would, notwithstanding, inevitably be lost. 

(A Student enters.™) 
Student. 

I am but just arrived, and come, full of devo- 
7 



66 



tion, to address and know a man whom all name 
to me with reverence. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am flattered by your politeness. You see a 
man, like many others. Have you yet made any 
inquiry elsewhere ? 

Student. 

Interest yourself for me, I pray you. I come 
with every good disposition, a little money, and 
youthful spirits; my mother could hardly be 
brought to part with me, but I would fain learn 
something worth learning in the world. 

Mephistopheles. 
You are here at the very place for it. 

* Student. 
Honestly sj^eaking, I already wish myself 
away. These walls, these halls, are by no 
means to my taste. The space is exceedingly 
confined; there is not a tree, nothing green, to 
be seen ; and in the lecture-rooms, on the bench- 
es, — hearing, sight, and thinking fail me. 

Mephistopheles. 
It all depends on habit. Thus, at first, the 
child does not take kindly to the mother's breast, 
but soon finds a pleasure in nourishing itself. 
Just so will you daily experience a greater pleas- 
ure at the breasts of wisdom. 

Student. 

I shall hang delightedly upon her neck ; do but 
tell me how I am to attain it. 



67 



Mephistopheles. 
Tell me, before you go further, what faculty 
you fix upon ? 

Student. 

I should wish to be profoundly learned, and 
should like to comprehend what is upon earth 
or in heaven, science and nature. 

Mephistopheles. 
You are here upon the right scent ; but you 
must not suffer your attention to be distracted. 

Student. 

I am heart and soul in the cause. A little 
relaxation and pastime, to be sure, would not 
come amiss on bright summer holy days. 

Mephistopheles. 
Make the most of time, it glides away so fast. 
But method teaches you to gain time. For this 
reason, my good friend, I advise you to begin 
with a course of logic. In this study, the mind 
is well broken in, — laced up in Spanish boots, 7<J 
so that it creeps circumspectly along the path of 
thought, and runs no risk of flickering, ignis fatuus- 
like, in all directions. Then many a day will be 
spent in teaching you 80 that one, two, three — 
is necessary for that which formerly you hit off 
at a blow, as easily as eating and drinking. It 
is with the fabric of thought as with a weaver's 
master-piece; where one treadle moves a thou- 
sand threads : the shuttles shoot backwards and 
forwards ; the threads flow unseen : ties, by thou- 
sands, are struck off at a blow. Your philoso- 
pher, — »he steps in and proves to you, it must 



68 



have been so : the first would be so, the second 
so, and therefore the third and fourth so : and 
if the first and second were not, the third and 
fourth would never be. The students of all 
countries put a high value on this, but none have 
become weavers. He who wishes to know and 
describe any thing living, 81 seeks first to drive the 
spirit out of it ; he has then the parts in his 
hand ; only, unluckily, the spiritual bond is 
wanting. Chemistry terms it encheiresis naturce, 
and mocks herself without knowing it. 

Student. 
I cannot quite comprehend you. 

Mephistopheles. 
You will soon improve in that respect, if you 
learn to reduce and classify all things properly. 

Student. 

I am so confounded by all this ; I feel as if a 
mill- wheel was turning round in my head. 

Mephistopheles. 

In the next place, before every thing else, 
you must set to at metaphysics. There see that 
you conceive profoundly what is not made for 
human brains. A fine word will stand you in 
stead for what enters and what does not enter 
there. And be sure 5 for this half-year, to adopt 
the strictest regularity. You will have five 
lectures every clay. 82 Be in as the clock strikes. 
Be well prepared beforehand with the para- 
graphs carefully conned, that you may see the 
better that he says nothing but what is in the 



GO 



book ; yet write away as zealously as if the Holy 
Ghost were dictating to you. 83 

Student. 

You need not tell me that a second time. I 
can imagine how useful it is. For what one 
has in black and white, one can carry home in 
comfort. 

Mephistopheles. 
But choose a faculty. 

Student. 

I cannot reconcile myself to jurisprudence. 81 

Mephistopheles. 
I cannot much blame you. I know the na- 
ture of this science. Laws descend, like an 
inveterate hereditary disease ; they trail from 
generation to generation, and glide impercep- 
tibly from place to place. Reason becomes non- 
sense ; beneficence a plague. TY~oe to thee that 
thou art a grandson ! Of the law that is born 
with us — of that, unfortunately, there is never a 
question. 

Student. 

You increase my repugnance. Oh, happy 
he, whom you instruct. I should ahnost like 
to study theology. 

Mephistopheles. 

I do not wish to mislead you. As for this 
science, it is so difficult to avoid the wrong 
way ; there is so much hidden poison in it, 
which is hardly to be distinguished from the 
medicine. Here, again, it is best to attend but 



70 



one master, and swear by his words. Gener- 
ally speaking, stick to words ; you will then 
pass through the safe gate into the temple of 
certainty. 

Student. 

But there must be some meaning connected 
with the word. 

Mephistopheles. 
Right ! only we must not be too anxious 
about that; for it is precisely where meaning 
fails that a word comes in most opportunely. 
Disputes may be admirably carried on with 
words ; a system may be built with words ; 
words form a capital subject for belief ; a word 
admits not of an iota being taken from it. 

Student. 

Your pardon, I detain you by my many ques- 
tions, but I must still trouble you. Would you 
be so kind as to add a pregnant word or two 
on medicine. Three years is a short time, and 
the field, God knows, is far too wide. If one 
has but a hint, one can feel one's way along 
further. 

Mephistopheles, aside. 

I begin to be tired of the prosing style. I 
must play the devil properly again. (aloud.) 

The spirit of medicine is easy to be caught ; 85 
you study through the great and little world, and 
let things go on in the end — as it pleases God. 
It is vain that you wander scientifically about ; no 
man will learn more than he can ; he who avails 



71 



himself of the passing moment ■ — that is the 
proper man. You are tolerably well built, nor 
will you be wanting in boldness, and if you do 
but confide in yourself, other souls will confide in 
you. In particular, learn how to treat the women : 
their eternal ohs ! and ahs ! so thousandfold, are 
to be cured from a single pohit, and if you only 
assume a moderately demure air, you will have 
them all under your thumb. You must have a 
title, to convince them that your art is superior to 
most others, and then you are admitted from the 
first to all those little privileges which another 
spends years in coaxing for. — Learn how to feel 
the pulse adroitly, and boldly clasp them, with 
hot wanton looks, around the tapering hip, to see 
how tightly it is laced. 

Student. 

There is some sense in that ; one sees, at any 
rate, the where and the how. 

Mephistopheles. 
Grey, my dear friend, is all theory, and green 
the golden tree of life. 

Student. 

I vow to you, all is as a dream to me. Might 
I trouble you another time to hear your wisdom 
speak upon the grounds. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am at your service, to the extent of my poor 
abilities, 

Student. 

I cannot possibly go away without placing my 
album in your hands. Do not grudge me this 
token of your favor, 



72 

• 

Mephistopheles. 
With all my heart* 

( He writes and gives it hack.) 

&bzff (pi ^^ TV ^^^ r ^Jl^^ if 
Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum. 

( He closes the booh reverentially, and takes his 
leave.) 

Mephistopheles. 

Only follow the old saying and my cousin the 
snake, and some time or other you, with your 
likeness to God, will be sorry enough. 

Faust enters. 

Whither now ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Where you please ; to see the little, then the 
great world. With what joy, what profit, will you 
revel through the course. 

Faust. 

But with my long beard, I want the easy man- 
ners of society. I shall fail in the attempt. I 
never knew how to present myself in the world ; 
I feel so little in the presence of others. I shall 
be in a constant state of embarrassment. 

Mephistopheles. 

My dear friend, all that will come of its own 
accord ; so soon as you feel confidence in your- 
self, you know the art of life. 

Faust. 

How, then, are we to start ? Where are your 
carriages, horses, and servants ? 



73 



Mephistopheles. 
We have but to spread out this mantle ; 86 that 
shall bear us through the air. Only you will 
take no heavy baggage on this bold trip. A little 
inflammable air, which I will get ready, will lift us 
quickly from this earth ; and, if we are light, we 
shall mount rapidly. I wish you joy of your new 
course of life. 



74 



1 



AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG. 87 

( Drinking bout of merry Fellows.) 
Frosch. 

Will no one drink ? no one laugh ? I will 
teach you to grin. Why, you are like wet straw 
to-day, yet at other times you blaze brightly 
enough, 

Brander. 

That is your fault ; you contribute nothing 
towards it : no nonsense, no beastliness — 
Frosch, 

( Throws a glass of wine over Brander's 
head.) 
There are both for you ! 

Brander. 

You double hog ! 

Frosch. 
Why, you wanted me to be so. 

Siebel. 

Out with him who quarrels ! With open heart 
strike up the song ! swill and shout ! holla, holla, 
ho ! 

Altmayer, 

Woe is me ! I am a lost man. Cotton, here ! 
the knave splits my ears. 



SlEBEL. 

It is only when the vault echoes again, that one 
feels the true power of the bass. 

Frosch. 

Right : out with him who takes any thing amiss. 
A ! taralara, da ! 

Altitayer. 

A! taralara! 

Frosch. 

Our throats are tuned. 

( He sings.) 

The dear, holy Romish empire, how holds it 
still together ? 

Braxder. 

A nasty song ! psha, a political song ! an offen- 
sive song ! Thank God every morning of your 
life, that you have not the Romish empire to care 
for. I, at least, esteem it no slight gain that I am 
not emperor nor chancellor. But we cannot do 
without a head. We will choose a pope. You 
know what sort of quahfication turns the scale, 
and elevates the man. 

(Frosch sings.) 
Soar up. Madam Nightingale, give my sweet- 
heart ten thousand greetings for me. 88 
Siebel. 

No greeting to the sweetheart ; I will not hear 
of it. 

Frosch. 

Greeting to the sweetheart, and a' kiss too ! 
Thou shalt not hinder me. 



76 



( He sings.) 
Open bolts ! in stilly night. 
Open bolts ! the lover wakes. 
Shut bolts ! at morning's dawn. 

Siebel. 

Ay, sing, sing on, and praise and celebrate her; 
my turn for laughing will come. She has taken 
me in ; she will do the same for you. May she 
have a hobgoblin for a lover ! He may toy with 
her on a cross way. An old he-goat, on his re- 
turn from the Blocksberg, may wicker good night 
to her on the gallop. A hearty fellow of genuine 
flesh and blood is far too good for the wench. I 
will hear of no greeting, unless it be to smash her 
windows. 

Brand er, striking on the table. 
Attend, attend ; listen to me ! You gentlemen 
must allow me to know something of life. Love- 
sick folks sit here, and I must give them some- 
thing suitable to their condition by way of good 
night. Atttend ! a song of the newest cut ! and 
strike boldly hi with the chorus. 

( He sings.) 

There was a rat in the cellar, who lived on 
nothing but fat and butter, and had raised him- 
self up a paunch fit for Doctor Luther himself. 
The cook had laid poison for him ; then the world 
became too hot for him, as if he had love in his 
body. 

Chorus. — As if he had love in his body. 

He ran round, he ran out, he drank of every 
puddle ; he gnawed and scratched the whole 
house, but his fury availed nothing ; he gave 



77 



many a bound of agony ; the poor beast was soon 
done for, as if lie had love in his body. 
Chorus. — As if, &q. 

He came running into the kitchen, for sheer 
pain, in open daylight, fell on the earth and lay 
convulsed, and panted pitiably. Then the poisoner 
exclaimed, with a laugh — Ha ! he is at his last 
gasp, as if he had love in his body. 

Chorus. — As if, &c. 

Siebel. 

How the flats chuckle ! It is a fine thing, to 
be sure, to lay poison for the poor rats. 

Braxder. 

They stand high in your favor, I dare say. 

ALTXAYER. 

The bald-pated paunch! The misadventure 
makes him humble and mild. He sees hi the 
swollen rat his own image drawn to the life. 
Faust and Mephistopheles. 
Mephistopheles. 

Before all things else, I must bring you into 
merry company, that you may see how lightly 
life may be passed. These people make every 
day a feast. With little wit and much self-com- 
placency, each turns round in the narrow circle- 
dance, like kittens playing with their tails. So 
long as they have no headache to complain of, 
and so long as they can get credit from their host, 
they are merry and free from care. 

Braxder. 

They are just off their journey ; one may see 
as much from their strange manner. They have 
not been here an hour, 



78 
Frosch. 

Thou art right ; Leipsic is the place for me : 89 
it is a little Paris, and gives its folks a finish, 

SlEBEL. 

What do you take the strangers to be ? 
Frosch. 

Let me alone ; in the drinking of a bum- 
per I will worm it out of them as easily as 
draw a child's tooth. They appear to me to 
be noble ; they have a proud and discontented 
look. 

Brander. 
Mountebanks to a certainty, I wager. 

Altmater. 

Likely enough. 

Frosch. 
Now mark ; I will smoke them. 

Mephistofheles to Faust. 
These people would never scent the devil, if 
he had them by the throat. 

Faust. 

Good morrow, gentlemen. 

Siebel. 

Thanks, and good morrow to you. 

( Aside , looking at Mephistopheles as- 
kance.) 

Why does the fellow halt on one foot ? 



79 



Mephistopheles. 
Will you permit us to sit down with you. We 
shall have company to cheer us, instead of good 
liquor, which is not to be had, 

Altmayer. 
You seem a very dainty gentleman* 

Frosch. 

I dare say you are lately from Kippach. Did 
you sup with Mr. Hans before you left ? 90 

Mephistopheles, 
We passed him without stopping to-day. The 
last time we spoke to him, he had much to say 
of his cousins ; he charged us with compliments 
to each. 

(With an inclination toivards Frosch.) 

Altmayer ( aside ). 
Thou hast it there ! he knows a thing or two, 

SlEBEL, 

A knowing fellow, 

Frosch. 

Only wait, I shall have him presently* 
Mephistopheles. 



If I am not mistaken, we heard some practised 
voices singing in chorus ? No doubt singing 
must echo admirably from this vaulted roof. 



Frosch. 
I dare say you are a dilettante. 



80 



Mephistopheles. 
Oh, no ! The power is weak, but the desire is 
strong. 

Altmayer. 

Give us a song. 

Mephistopheles. 
As many as you like. 

Siebel. 
Only let it be bran new. 

Mephistopheles. 
We are just returned from Spain, the fair land 
of wine and song. 

(He sings.) 

There was once upon a time a king who had a 
great flea — 

Frosch. 

Hark ! A flea ! Did you catch that ? A flea 
is a fine sort of chap. 

Mephistopheles sings, 91 
There was once upon a time a king ; he had a 
great flea, and was as fond of it as if it had been 
his own son. Then he called his tailor; the 
tailor came. " There, measure the youngster for 
clothes, and measure him for breeches." 

Brander. 

Only don't forget to impress it on the tailor 
to measure with the greatest nicety, and, as 
he loves his head, to make the breeches sit 
smoothly. 



81 



Mephistopheles sings. 
He was now attired in velvet and silk, had 
ribbons on his coat, had a cross besides, and was 
forthwith made minister, and had a great star. 
Then his brothers and sisters also became great 
folks. And the ladies and gentlemen at court 
were dreadfully tormented; from the queen to 
the waiting- woman they were pricked and bitten, 
yet dared not crack nor scratch them away. 
But we crack and stifle fast enough when one 
pricks. 

Chorus. — But we crack, &c. 

Frosch. 
Bravo ! bravo ! That was capital* 

SlEBEL* 

So perish every flea. 

Brander. 

Point your fingers, and nick them cleverly. 

Altmayer. 
Liberty forever ! Wine forever ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I would willingly drink a glass in honor of 
liberty, were your wine a thought better. 

Siebel. 

You had better not let us hear that again ! 

Mephistopheles. 

I am afraid of giving offence to the landlord, 
or I would treat these worthy gentlemen out of 
our own stock. 

8 



82 

SlEBEL. 

O, bring it in ; I take the blame upon myself. 
Frosch. 

Give us a good glass, and we shall not be 
sparing of our praise ; only don't let your sam- 
ples be too small; for if I am to give an opinion, 
I require a regular mouthful. 

Altmayee ( aside ). 
They are from the Rhine, I guess. 

Mephistopheles. 
Bring a gimlet. 

Brand er. 

What for? You surely have not the casks at 
the door ? 

ALT3IAYER. 

Behind there, is a tool-chest of the landlord's * 

Mephistopheles ( taking the gimlet ) to 
Frosch. 

Now say, what wine would you wish to taste ? 
Frosch. 

What do you mean? Have you so many sorts? 

Mephistopheles. 
I give every man his choice. 

Alt^iater to Frosch. 
Ah ! you begin to lick your lips already. 
Frosch, 

Well ! if I am to choose, I will take Rhine 
wine. Our father-land affords the best of gifts. 



83 

Mephistopheles (boring a hole in the edge of 
the table where Frosch is sitting ). 
Get a little wax to make stoppers, immediately. 

Altmayer. 
All ! these are juggler's tricks. 

Mephistopheles to Braxder. 
And you ? 

Br AND EE. 

I choose champagne, and right sparkling it 
must be. 

(Mephistopheles bores again; one of the 
others has in the mean time prepared the 
iv ax-stoppers and stopped the holes.) 

One cannot always avoid what is foreign ; 
what is good often lies so far off. A true Ger- 
man cannot abide Frenchmen, but has no objec- 
tion to their wine. 

Siebel ( as Mephistopheles approaches him J. 

I must own I do not like acid wine ; give me a 
2'lass.of genuine sweet. 

Mephistopheles bores. 
You shall have Tokay in a twinkling. ~ ' < 
Altmayer. 

-Jno, gentlemen, look me in the face. I see 
plainly you, are only making fun of us. 

/ Mephistopheles. 

Ha ! ha ! that would be taking too great a lib- 
erty with such distinguished guests. Quick ! only 
speak out at once. ^Yhat wine can I have the 
pleasure of serving you .with 1 



84 

Altmayer. 

With any; there is no need of much ques- 
tioning. 

( After all the holes are hored and stopped, j 
Mephistopheles ( with strange gestures). 
The vine bears grapes. 
The he-goat bears horns. 
Wine is juicy, 
Vines are wood ; 

The wooden table can also give wine. 
A deep insight into nature : 
Behold a miracle, only have faith ; 
Now draw the stoppers, and drink. 

All. 

(As they draio the stoppers, and the wine he chose 
runs into each man's glass.) 
Oh ! beautiful spring that flows for us ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Only take care not to spill any of it. 

( They drink repeatedly. j 
All sing. 

We are as happy as cannibals — as five hun- 
dred swine. 

Mephistopheles. 
These people are now in their glory ; mark, 
how merry they are. 

Fal t st. 
I should like to be off now. 

Mephistopheles. 
But first attend ; their brutishness will display 
itself right gloriously. 



85 

SlEBEL. 

( Drinks carelessly ; the ivine is sj)ilt upon the 
ground, and turns to flame.) 
Help ! fire, help ! Hell is burning. 

Mephistopheles (conjuring the flame). 
Be quiet, friendly element ! 

(To SlEBEL,) 

This time it was only a drop of the fire of 
purgatory. 

SlEBEL. 

What may that be ? Hold ! you shall pay 
dearly for it. It seems that you do not know us. 

Frosch. 

He had better not try that a second time. 

ALT3IAYER. 

I think we had better send him packing quietly. 

SlEBEL. 

Whatj sir, dare you play off your hocus pocus 
here ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Silence, old wine-butt. 

SlEBEL. 

Broomstick ! will you be rude to us too ? 

Brand ep. 
But hold ! or blows shall rain. 

Altzviayer. 

(Draws a stopper from the table ; fire flies out 
against him.) 

I burn ! I burn ! 



86 

SlEBEL. 

Sorcery ! thrust home ! the knave is fair game. 
(They draw their knives and attach Mephisto- 
pheles.) 

Mephistopheles (with solemn gestures ). 
False form and word, 
Change sense and place, 
Be here, be there ! 
( They stand amazed, and gaze on each other.) 

Altmayer. 
Where am I ? What a beautiful country ! 
Frosch. 

Vineyards ! Can I believe my eyes ? 

SlEBEL. 

And grapes close at hand ! 

Brand er. 

Here, under these green leaves, see, what a 
stem ! see, what a bunch ! 

( He seizes Siebel by the nose. The others 
do the same one with the other, and brandish 
their knives.) 

Mephistopheles (as before). 
Error, loose the bandage from their eyes 1 
And do ye remember the devil's mode of jesting. 
(He disappears with Faust. The fellows 
start back from one another.) 

Siebel. 
What's the matter ? 

Altmayer. 

How? 



87 

Frosch. 
Was that your nose ? 

BRAXDER tO SlEBEL. 

And I have yours in my hand ! 

ALT3IAYER. 

It was a shock which thrilled through every 
limb ! Give me a chair, I am sinking. 

Frosch. 

No, do but tell me : what has happened ? 

SlEBEL. 

Where is the fellow ? If I meet with him, it 
shall be as much as his life is worth. 

Altmaver. 

I saw him with my own eyes riding out of the 
cellar door upon a cask. My feet feel as heavy 
as lead. (Turning towards the table.) 

My ! I wonder whether the wine is flowing still ? 

SlEBEL. 

It was all a cheat, a lie, and a make-believe. 
Frosch. 

Yet it seemed to me as if I was drinking wine. 

Brand er. 
But how was it with the grapes ? 

Altmayer. 

Let any one tell me, after that, that one is not 
to believe in wonders ! 



88 



PITCHES' KITCHEX. f2 

A large cauldron is hanging over the fire on a low 
hearth. Different figures are seen in the fumes 
which rise from it. A Female Monkey is sitting 
by the cauldron and shimming it, and talcing 
care that it does not run over. The Male Mon- 
key is seated near with the young ones, and 
warming himself. The tcalls and ceiling are 
hung with the strangest articles of Witch furni- 
ture. 

Faust. 

I loath this rnad concern of witchcraft. Do 
you promise me that I shall recover in this chaos 
of insanity ? Do I need an old hag's advice ? 
And will this mess of cookery really take thirty 
years from my body? TToe is me, if you know 
of nothing better ! Hope is already gone. Has 
nature and has a noble spirit discovered no sort 
of balsam? 

Mephistopheles. 

My friend, now again you speak wisely ! There 
is also a natural mode of renewing youth. But it 
is in another book, and is a strange chapter. 

Faust. 

Let me know it. 



i m 



89 

Mephistopheles. 

Well, to have a mean without money, physi- 
cian, or sorcery: betake thyself straightway to 
the field, begin to hack and dig, confine thyself 
and thy sense within a narrow circle ; support 
thyself on simple food ; live with beasts as a 
beast, and think it no robbery to manure the land 
you crop. That is the best way, believe me, to 
keep a man young to eighty. 

Faust. 

I am not used to it. I cannot bring myself to 
take the spade in hand. The confined life does 
not suit me at all. 

Mephistopheles. * 

Then you must have recourse to the witch? 
after all. 

Faust. 

But why the old woman in particular ? Can- 
not you brew the drink yourself ? 

Mephistopheles. 

That were a pretty pastime ! I could build a 
thousand bridges in the time. Not art and science 
only, but patience is required for the job. A 
quiet spirit is busy at it for years ; time only 
makes this fine liquor strong. And the ingredi- 
ents are exceedingly curious. The devil, it is 
true, has taught it her, but the devil cannot make 
it. (Perceiving the Moxkets.) See what a 
pretty breed! That is the lass — that the lad. 
(To the Monkeys.) — It seems your mistress is 
not at home ? 



90 



The Monkeys. 

At the feast, 93 
Out of the house, 

Out and away by the chimney-stone ! 

Mephistopheles. 
How long does she usually rake ? 

The Monkeys. 
Whilst we are warming our paws. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust). 
What think you of the pretty creatures ? 
Faust. 

The most disgusting I ever saw. 

Mephistopheles. 

Nay, a discourse like the present is precisely 
what I am fondest of engaging in. 

( To the Monkeys.) 
Tell me, accursed whelps, what are ye stirring 
up with the porridge ? 

Monkeys. 
We are cooking coarse beggars' broth. ' M 

Mephistopheles. 
You will have plenty of customers. 

The He Monkey. 
(Approaches andfaivns on Mephistopheles.) 

Oh, quick throw the dice, 
And make me rich — 
And let me win ! 
My fate is a sorry one, 
And had I money 

I should not want for consideration. 



91 



Mephistopheles. 

How happy the monkey would think himself, 
if he could only put into the lottery. 

( The Young Monkeys have, in the mean time, 
been playing with a large globe, and roll it 
forwards.) 

The He Monkey. 

That is the world ; 
It rises and falls, 
And rolls unceasingly. 
It rings like glass : 
How soon breaks that ? 
It is hollow within ; 
It glitters much here, 
And still more here — 
I am alive ! 
My dear son, 
Keep thee aloof ; 
Thou must die ! 
It is of clay, 
This makes potsherds. 

Mephistopheles. 
What is the sieve for ? 

The He Monkey takes it down. 

Wert thou a thief, I should know thee at once. 

( He runs to the female and makes her look 
through.) 

Look through the sieve ! 
Dost thou recognize the thief? 
And darest not name him ? 

Mephistopheles ( approaching the fire ). 
And this pot ? 



02 



The Monkeys. 

The half-witted sot ! 
He knows not the pot ! 
He knows not the kettle ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Uncivil brute ! 

The He Monkey. 
Take the brush here, and sit down on the settle . : ' 3 
( He makes Mephistopheles sit down.) 
Faust. 

( Who all this time has been standing before a look' 
ing-glass, now approaching and now standing 

°fff rom 

What do I see? What a heavenly image 
shows itself in this magic mirror ! O Love ! lend 
me the swiftest of thy wi®gs 3 and bear me to her 
region ! Ah ! when I stir from this spot, when I 
venture to go near, I can only see her as in a 
mist. The loveliest image of a woman ! Is it 
possible — - is woman so lovely ? Must I see in 
these recumbent limbs the innermost essence of 
all Heavens ? Is there any thing like it upon 
earth ? 

Mephistopheles. 

When a God first works hard for six days, and 
himself says bravo at the end, it is but natural 
that something clever should come of it. For 
this time look your fill. I know where to find 
out such a love for you, and happy he whose for- 
tune it is to bear her home as a bridegroom. 



93 

(Faust continues looking into the mirror. 
Mephistopheles, stretching himself on the 
settle and playing with the brush, continues 
speaking.) 

Here I sit, like the king upon his throne ; here 
is my sceptre — I only want the crown. 

The Monkeys. 
( Who have hitherto been playing all sorts of strange 

antics, bring Mephistopheles a crown with 

loud acclamations.) 

Oh, be so good as to glue the crown with sweat 
and blood. 90 

( They handle the crown aivkivardly, and break 
it into two pieces, with ivhich they jump 
about.) 

Now it is done. 
We speak and see ; 
We hear and rhyme — 

Faust, before the mirror. 
Woe is me ! I am becoming almost mad ! 
Mephistopheles (pointing to the Monkeys ). 
My own head begins to totter now. 

The Monkeys. 
— And if we are lucky — 
And if things fit, 
Then there are thoughts. 

Faust ( as before ). 

My heart is beginning to burn. Do but let us 
begone immediately. 

Mephistopheles (in the same position). 
Well, no one can deny, at any rate, that they 
are sincere poets. 



94 



(The cauldron, which the She Monkey has 
neglected, begins to boil over ; a great flame 
arises, and streams up the chimney. TJte 
Witch comes shooting down through the flame 
with horrible cries.) 

The Witch. 

Ough, ough, ough, ough ! 

Damned beast ! Accursed sow ! 

Neglecting the cauldron, scorching your dame — 

Cursed beast ! 

(Espying Fatjst and Mephistopheles.) 

What now ? 

Who are ye ? 

What would ye here ? 

Who hath come slinking in ? 

The red plague of fire 

Into your bones ! 

(She dips the shimming ladle into the cauldron, 
and sprinkles flames at Faust, Mephis- 
topheles, and the Monkeys. The Mon- 
keys ivhimper. 

Mephistopheles. 

( Who inverts the brush tvhich he holds in his 
hands, and strikes amongst the glasses and 
pots.) 

To pieces ! 
To pieces ! 

There lies the porridge ! 
There lies the glass ! 
It is only carrying on the jest — beating time, 
thou carrion, to thy melody. 



95 



(As the "Witch steps hack in rage and amaze- 
ment.) 

Dost thou recognize me, thou atomy, 97 thou scare- 
crow ? Dost thou recognize thy lord and master ? 
What is there to hinder me from striking in good 
earnest, from dashing thee and thy monkey* 
spirits to pieces ? Hast thou no more any respect 
for the red doublet ? Can'st thou not distinguish 
the cock's feather ? Have I concealed this face ? 
JV^ust I then name myself ? 

The Witch, 

master, pardon this rough reception. But 
I see no cloven foot. Where then are your two 
ravens ? 

Mephistofheles. 

This once, the apology may serve. For, to be 
sure, it is long since last we met. The march of 
intellect too, which licks all the world into shape, 
has even reached the devil. The northern phan- 
tom is no more to be seen. Where do you now 
see horns, tail, and claws ? 98 And as for the foot, 
winch I cannot do without, it would prejudice me 
in society ; therefore, like many a gallant, I have 
worn false calves these many years. 

The Witch ( dancing ). 

1 am almost beside myself, to see the gallant 
Satan here again. 

Mephistopheles. 
The name, woman, I beg to be spared. 

The Witch. 
Wherefore ? What has it done to you ? 

Mephistopheles. 
It has been long written in story books ; but 



96 



men are not the better for that ; they are rid of 
the wicked one, the wicked have remained. You 
may call me Baron, that will do very well. I 
am a cavalier, like other cavaliers. You doubt not 
of my gentle blood ; see here, these are the arms 
I bear ! 

(He makes an unseemly gesture,) 
The Witch laughs immoderately. 
Ha, ha ! That is in your way. You are the 
same mad wag as ever. 

Mephistopiieles (to Faust). 

My friend, attend to this. This is the way to 
deal with witches. 

The Witch. 
Now, sirs, say what you are for. 

Mephistopheles. 

A good glass of the juice you wot of. I must 
beg you to let it be of the oldest. Years double 
its power. 

The Witch. 

Most willingly. Here is a bottle out of which 
I sometimes sip a little myself; which, besides, 
no longer stinks in the least. I will give you a 
glass with pleasure. ( Aside.) But if this man 
drinks it unprepared, you well know he cannot 
live an hour. 

Mephistopheles. 

He is a worthy friend of mine, on whom it will 
have a good effect. I grudge him not the best of 
thy kitchen. Draw thy circle, spell thy spells, 
and give him a cup full. 



97 



(The Witch, with strange gestures, draws a 
circle and places rare things in it; in the 
mean time, the glasses begin to ring, and the 
cauldron to sound and make music. Lastly, 
she brings a great booh, and places the Mon- 
keys in the circle, who are made to serve her 
for a reading desk and hold the torches. She 
signs to Faust to approach.) 

Faust (to Mephistopheles). 

But tell me, what is to come of all this ? This 
absurd apparatus, these frantic gestures, this most 
disgusting jugglery — I know them of old, and 
thoroughly abominate them. 

Mephistopheles. 

Pooh ! that is only fit to laugh at. Don't be so 
fastidious. As mediciner, she is obliged to play 
off some hocus-pocus, that the dose may operate 
well on you. ( He makes Faust enter the circle.) 

The Witch, with a strong emphasis, begins to 
declaim from the book. 
You must understand, 
Of one make ten, 
And let two go, 
And three make even ; 
Then art thou rich. 
Lose the four ! 
Out of five and six, 
So says the Witch, 
Make seven and eight, 
Then it is done, 
And nine is one, 
And ten is none. 

That is the witches one-times-one. 99 



9 



98 



Faust. 

It seenis to me that the hag is raving. 

MePHISTOPHELES. 

There is a good deal more of it jet — I know 
it well 5 the whole book is to the same tune. I 
have wasted many an hour upon it, for a down- 
right contradiction remains equally mysterious to 
wise folks and fools. 100 My friend, the art is old 
and new. It has ever been the fashion to spread 
error instead of truth by three and one, and one 
and three. It is taught and prattled uninterrupt- 
edly. Who will concern themselves about dolts ? 
Men are wont to believe, when they hear only 
words, that there must be something in it. 

The Witch continues. 

The high power 
Of knowledge, 

Hidden from the whole world ! 
And he who thinks not, 
On him is it bestowed ; 
He has it without trouble. 

Faust. 

What sort of nonsense is she reciting to us ? 
My head is splitting ! I seem to hear a hundred 
idiots declaiming in full chorus. 

Mephistopheles. 

Enough, enough, incomparable Sybil! Hand 
us thy drink, and fill the cup to the brim without 
more ado ; for this draught will do my friend no 
harm. He is a man of many grades, who has 
taken many a good gulp already e 



99 



( The Witch with many ceremonies pours the 
liquor into a cup ; as Faust lifts it to his 
mouth, a light flame arises.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Down with it at once. Do not stand hesitat- 
ing. It will soon warm your heart. Are you 
hail-fellow well-met with the devil, and afraid of 
fire ? 

( The Witch dissolves the circle — Faust steps 
out.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Now forth at once ! You must not rest. 

The Witch. 
Much good may the draught do you. 

Mephistopheles ( to the Witch). 
And if I can do any thing to pleasure you. 
you need only mention it to me on Walpurgis's 
night. 

The Witch. 
Here is a song ! if you sing it occasionally, it 
will have a particular effect on you. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust). 

Come quick, and be guided by me ; you must 
necessarily perspire, to make the spirit work 
through blood and bone. I will afterwards teach 
you to value the nobility of idleness, and you will 
feel ere long, with heartfelt delight, how Cupid, 
bestirs himself and bounds hither and thither. 

Faust. 

Let me only look another moment in the glass- 
That female form was too, too lovely. 



100 

Mephistopheles. 
Nay, nay ; you shall soon see the model of all 
womankind in flesh and blood. 

( Aside.) 

"With this draught in your body, you will soon see 
a Helen in every woman you meet. 



101 



THE STREET. 

Faust. (Margaret 101 ^osmV^ by.) 
My pretty lady, may I take the liberty of 
offering you my arm and escort ? 

Margaret. 
I am neither lady, nor pretty, and can go home 
without an escort. 

( She disengages herself and exit.) 

Faust. 

By heaven, this girl is lovely ! I have never 
seen the like of her. She is so well-behaved 
and virtuous, and something snappish, withal. 
The redness of her lip, the light of her cheek — 
I shall never forget them all the days of my life. 
The manner in which she cast down her eyes is 
deeply stamped upon my heart : and how tart she 
was — it was absolutely ravishing ! 

Mephistopheles enters. 
Faust. 

Hark, you must get me the girl. 

Mephistopheles. 

Which? 

Faust. 
She passed but now. 

Mephistopheles, 
What, she ? She came from her confessor, who 
absolved her from all her sins. I stole up close 



102 



to tlie chair. It is an innocent little thing, that 
went for next to nothing to the confessional. 
Over her I have no power. 

Faust. 
Yet she is past fourteen ! 

Mephistopheles. 
You postively speak like Jack Kake, who 
covets every sweet flower for himself, and fancies 
that there is neither honor nor favor which is not 
to be had for the plucking. But this will not 
always do. 

Faust. 

My good Mr. Sernionizer, don't plague me 
with your morality. And, in a word, I tell you 
this: if the sweet young creature does not lie 
this very night in my arms, at midnight our com- 
pact is at an end. 

Mephistopheles. 

Consider what is possible. I need a fortnight, 
at least, to find an opportunity. 

Faust. 

Had I but seven hours clear, I should not want 
the devil's assistance to seduce such a child. 

Mephistopheles. 

You talk now almost like a Frenchman : but 
don't fret about it, I beg, What boots it to go 
straight to enjoyment? The delight is not so 
great by far, as when you have kneaded and 
moulded the doll on all sides with all sorts of 
nonsense, 102 as many a French story teaches. 

Faust. 

But I have appetite without all that. 



103 



MEPHI S TOPHELE S . 

Now seriously, and without offence, I tell you 
once for all, that the lovely girl is not to be had 
in such a hurry ; nothing here is to be taken by 
storm ; we must have recourse to stratagem. 

Fatjst. 

Get me something belonging to the angel. — 
Carry me to her place of repose ; get me a ker- 
chief from her bosom, a garter of my love. 

Mephistopheles. 
That you may see my anxiety to minister to 
your passion, — we will not lose a moment ; this 
very day I will conduct you to her chamber. 

Faust. 

And shall I see her ? have her ? — 
Mephistopheles. 

No. She will be at a neighbour's. In the 
mean time, you, all alone, and in her atmosphere, 
may feast to satiety on anticipated joy. 

Faust. 

Can we go now ? 

Mephistopheles. 
It is too early. 

Faust. 

Get me a present for her. [ Exit. 

Mephistopheles. 

Presents directly ! Now that's capital ! That's 
the way to succeed ! I know many a fine place, 
and many a long-buried treasure. I must look 
them over a bit, [Exit 



104 



EVENING. 

A neat little Room. 

Margaret (braiding and binding up her hair ). 

I would give something to know who that gen- 
tleman was to-day ! He had a gallant bearing, 
and is of a noble family, I am sure. I could read 
that on his brow ; besides, he would not else have 
been so impudent. 103 [Exit 

Mephistopheles — Faust. 

Mephistopheles. 
Come in — as softly as possible — only come in ! 

Faust ( after a pause ). 
Leave me alone, I beg of you. 

Mephistopheles (looking round). 
It is not every maiden that is so neat. [Exit. 

Faust (l^oMng rotmd). 

Welcome, sweet twilight, that pervades this 
sanctuary ! Possess my heart, delicious pangs 
of love, you who live languishing on the dew of 
hope ! What a feeling of peace, order, and con- 
tentment breathes round! What abundance in 
this poverty ! What bliss in this cell ! 

(He throws himself upon the leathern easy- 
chair by the side of the bed.) 

Oh! receive me, thou, who hast welcomed. 



105 



with open arms, in joy and sorrow, the genera- 
tions that are past. Ah, how often has a swarm 
of children clustered about this patriarchal throne. 
Here, perhaps, hi gratitude for her Christmas- 
box, with the warm round cheek of childhood — 
has my beloved piously kissed the withered hand 
of her grandsire. Maiden, I feel thy spirit of 
abundance and order flutter round me — that 
spirit which daily instructs thee like a mother — 
which bids thee spread the neat cloth upon the 
table and curl the sand upon the floor. Dear 
hand ! so godlike ! you make the hut a heaven : 
and here — 

( He lifts up a bed-curtain.) 

what blissful tremor seizes me! Here could I 
linger for hours ! Nature ! here, in light dreams, 
you matured the born angel. Here lay the child ! 
its gentle bosom filled with warm life ; and here, 
with weavings of hallowed purity, the divine 
image developed itself. 

And thou, what hast brought thee hither? 
How deeply mo^ed I feel ! What would' st thou 
here ? Why grows thy heart so heavy ? Poor 
Faust, I no longer know thee. 

Am I breathing an enchanted atmosphere? 104 
I panted so for instant enjoyment, and feel myself 
dissolving into a dream of love. Are we the 
sport of every pressure of the air ? 

And if she entered this very moment, how 
would'st thou atone for thy guilt ! The big 
boaster, alas, how shrunk ! would He, dissolved 
away, at her feet. 

Mephistopheles. 
Quick ! I see her coming below. 



106 



Faust. 

Away, away ! I return no more, 
Mephistopheles. 

Here is a casket tolerably heavy. I took it 
from somewhere else. Place it instantly in the 
press. I promise you she will be fairly beside 
herself. I put baubles in it to gain another ; but 
children are children, and play is play, all the 
world oyer. 

Faust. 
I know not — shall I ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Is that a thing to ask about ? Perchance you 
mean to keep the treasure for yourself? In that 
case I advise you to spare the precious hours for 
your lusts, and further trouble to me. I hope 
you are not avaricious. I scratch my head, rub 
my hands — 

(He places the casket in the press and chscs 

' ■ fob) 

But qu a ;< ra~ ! — to bend the sweet young 
creature ic your 1 ; ' Ire; and now you look 
as if you were going to lit 1^( + ure-room — as if 
Physic and Metaphysic were standing grey and 
bodily before you there. But away ! 

[Exeunt. 

Margaret ( with a lamp ). 
It feels so close, so sultry here. 105 ( She opens 
the window.) And yet it is not so very warm 
without. I begin to feel I know not how. I wish 
my mother would come home. I tremble all 
over ; but I am a silly, timid woman. (She he gins 
to sing, as she undresses herself.) & 



107 



Song; 

There was a king in Thule, 106 faithful even to 
the grave, to whom his dying mistress gave a 
golden goblet. 

He prized nothing above it ; he emptied it at 
every feast ; his eyes overflowed as often as he 
drank out of it. 

And when he came to die, he reckoned up the 
cities in his kingdom ; he grudged none of them 
to his heir, but not so with the goblet. 

He sat at the royal banquet, with his knights 
around him, in his proud ancestral hall, there in 
his castle on the sea. 

There stood the old toper, took a parting 
draught of life's glow, and threw the hallowed 
goblet down into the waves. 

He saw it splash, fill, and sink deep into 
the sea; his eyes fell, he never drank a drop 
more. 

(She opens the press to put away her clothes, 
and perceives the casket.) 

How came this beautiful casket ber< . I am 
sure I locked the press h b r; ; orange! 
What is in it, I wonde: ? Perhaps some one 
brought it as a pledge, and my mother lent money 
upon it. A little key hangs by the ribbon; I 
have a good mind to open it. What is here ? 
Good heavens ! look ! I have never seen any 
thing like it hi all my born days ! A set of trink- 
ets a countess might wear on the highest festi- 
val. How would the chain become me ? To 
whom can such finery belong ? ( She puts them 
on, and walks before the looking-glass.) If the 
ear-rings were but mine ! one cuts quite a different 
figure in them. What avails your beauty, poor 



108 



maiden ? That may be all very pretty and good, 
but they let it all be. You are prai-^ "lalf hi 
pity ; but after gold presses — on gold h°*»g9 ~ 
brer j thing. — Alas, for us poor ones ! 



109 



PROMENADE. 

Faust walking up and down thoughtfully. To 
Mm Mephistopheles. 

By all despised love ! By the elements of 
hell ! Would that I knew something worse to 
curse by ! 

What is the matter? What is it that pinches 
you so sharply ? I never saw such a face in my 

mi 

Mephistopheles. 
I could give myself to the devil directly, were 
I not the devil myself. 

Faust. 

Is your brain disordered? It becomes you 
truly to rave like a madman. 

Mephistopheles. 

Only think! A priest has carried off the 
jewels provided for Margaret. The mother gets 
sight of the thing, and begins at once to have a 
secret norror of it. Truly, the woman hath a fine 
nos^ *e ever snuffling in her prayer-book, and 
smells m every piece of furniture, whether the 
thing be holy or profane ; and she plainly smells 
out in the jewels, that there was not much bless- 
ing connected v itk them. " My child," said she, 
w ill-gotten wealth ensnares the soul, consumes 



110 



the blood. We will consecrate it to the Mother 
of God ; she will gladden us with heavenly 
manna." Margaret made a wry face ; it is, after 
all, thought she, a gift-horse ; and truly, he can- 
not be godless, who brought it here so handsomely. 
The mother sent for a priest. — Scarcely had he 
heard the jest, but he seemed well pleased with 
the sight. He spoke : " this shows a good dispo- 
sition ; who conquers himself, — he is the gainer. 
The church has a good stomach ; she has eaten 
up whole countries, and has never yet over-eaten 
herself. The church alone, my good woman, can 
digest unrighteous wealth." 

Faust. 

That is a general custom ; a Jew and a King 
can do it too. 

Mephistopheles. 

So saying, he swept off clasp, chain, and ring, 
as if they were so many mushrooms ; thanked 
them neither more nor less than if it had been a 
basket of nuts ; promised them all heavenly re- 
ward — and very much edified they were* 
Faust. 

And Margaret — 

Mephistophei.es. 

Is now sitting full of restlessness ; not knowing 
what to do with herself ; thinks day and night on 
the trinkets, and still more on him who gave 
them to her. 

Faust. 

Mv love' s grief distresses me. Get her another 
set immediately. The first were no great things, 
after all. 



Ill 



Mephistopheles. 
Oh ! to be sure, all is child's play to the gen- 
tleman ! 

Faust. 

Do it, and order it as I wish. Stick close to 
her neighbor. Don't be a milk-and-water devil ; 
and fetch a fresh set of jewels. 

Mephistopheles. 

With all my heart, honored sir. 

[Faust exit. 

A love-sick fool like this puffs away sun, moon, 
and all the stars indifferently, by way of pastime 
f or his mistress. 



112 



THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE. 

Martha alone. 

God forgive my dear husband ; lie lias not 
acted well towards me. He goes straight away 
into the world, and leaves me widowed and lonely. 
Yet truly I never did any thing to vex him ; God 
knows I loved him to my heart. ( She iceeps.) 
Perhaps he is actually dead. Oh, torture ! Had 
I but a certificate of his death ! 

Margaret enters. 

Martha ! 

Martha. 
"What is the matter, Margaret ? 

Margaret. 
My knees almost sink under rr.e ! I have 
found just such another ebon y c\ . lie. 5*j my press 
— and things absolutely magniiiodnu far costlier 
than the first. 

Martha. 

You must say nothing about it to your mother. 
She would carry it to the confessional again. 
Margaret. 
Now, only see ? only look at them ! 

Martha dresses her up in them. 
Oh ! you happy creature. 



113 

Margaret. 
Unfortunately, I must not be seen in them in 
the street, nor in the church. 

Martha. 

Do but come over frequently to me, and put on 
the trinkets here in private. Walk a little hour 
up and down before the looking-glass ; we shall 
have our enjoyment in that. And then an occa- 
sion offers, a festival occurs, where, little by little, 
one lets folks see them ; — first a chain, then the 
pearl ear-rings. Your mother, perhaps, will not 
observe it, or one may make some pretence to 
her. 

Margaret. 

But who could have brought the two caskets ? 
There is something not right about it. 

(Some one knocks.) 
Margaret. 
Good God ! can that be my mother ? 

Martha (looking through the blinds). 
It is a stranger — come in ! 

Mith^ s jCOPheles enters. 
I have mi :de free to come in at once ; I have to 
beg pardon of the ladies. 

( He steps back respectfully before Margaret.) 

I came to inquire after Mrs. Martha Schwerdt- 
lein. 

Martha. 
I am she ; what is your pleasure, sir ? 

Mephistopheles ( aside to her ). 
I know you now — that is enough. You have 
10 



114 

a visitor of distinction there. Excuse the liberty 
I have taken. I will call again in the afternoon. 
Martha ( aloud ). 

Only think, child — of all things in the world ! 
this gentleman takes you for a lady. 

Margaret. 

I am a poor young creature. Oh ! heavens, 
the gentleman is too obliging. The jewels and 
ornaments are none of mine. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ah! it is not the jewels alone. She has a 
mien, a look, so striking. How glad I am that I 
may stay. 

Martha. 

What do you bring, then? I am very curi- 
ous — 

Mephistopheles. 
I wish I had better news. I hope you will not 
make me suffer for it. Your husband is dead, 
and sends you his compliments. 

Martha. 

Is dead ! the good soul ! Oh, woe is me ! My 
husband is dead ! Ah, I shall die ! 

Margaret. 
Dear, good Martha, don't despair. 

Mephistopheles. 
Listen to the melancholy talc. 

Margaret. 
For this reason I should wish never to be in 
love for all the days of my life. The loss would 
grieve me to death. 



115 

MePHI S T O PHE LES. 

Joy must have sorrow — sorrow, joy. 

Martha. 
Eelate to ine the close of his life. 

Mephistopheles. 
He lies buried in Padua, at St. Antony's, in a 
spot well consecrated for a bed of rest, • — eter- 
nally cool. 

Martha. 
1 Have you nothing else for nie ? 

Mephistopheles, 
Yes, a request, big and heavy ! be sure to have 
three hundred masses sung for him, For the 
rest, my pockets are empty. 

Martha. 

What ! not a coin by way of token ? Not a 
trinket? what every journeyman mechanic hus- 
bands at the bottom of his pouch, saved as a 
keepsake, and rather starves, rather begs — 
Mephistopheles. 

Madam, I am very sorry. But he really has 
not squandered away his money. He, too, bit- 
terly repented of his sins ; ay, and bewailed his 
ill-luck still more. 

Margaret. 
Ah ! that mortals should be so unlucky* As- 
suredly I will sing many a requiem for him. 
Mephistopheles. 
You deserve to be married directly- You are 
an amiable girl. 

Margaret. 
Ob. no, there is time enough for that. 



116 

Mephistopheles. 
If not a husband, then a gallant in the mean 
time. It were one of the best gifts of heaven to 
iiave so sweet a thing in one's arms. 

Margaret. 
That is not the custom in this country. 

Mephistopheles. 
Custom or not, such things do come to pass, 
though. 

Martha. 

But relate to me — 

Mephistopheles. 

I stood by his death-bed. It was somewhat 
better than dung, — of half-rotten straw ; but he 
died like a Christian, and found that he had still 
much more upon his score. " How thoroughly," 
he cried, "must I detest myself — to run away 
from my business and my wife in such a manner. 
Oh ! the recollection is death to me. If she 
could but forgive me in this life ! " 

Martha ( weeping ). 
The good man ! I have long since forgiven 
him. 

Mephistopheles. 
" But, God knows, she was more in fault 
than I." 

Martha. 

He lied then ! What, tell lies on the brink of 

the grave ! 

Mephistopheles. 
He certainly fabled with his last breath, if I am 
but half a connoisseur. "I/ 5 said he, "had no 



117 



occasion to gape for pastime — first to get children, 
and then bread for them, and bread in the widest 
sense, — and could not even eat my share in 
peace." 

Martha. 

Did he thus forget all my faith, all my love — 
my drudgery by day and night ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Not so ; he affectionately reflected on it. He 
said : " When I left Malta, I prayed fervently for 
my wife and children ; and heaven was so far 
favorable, that our ship took a Turkish vessel, 
which carried a treasure of the great sultan. 
Bravery had its reward, and, as was no more 
than right, I got my fair share of it." 

Martha. 

How ! Where ! Can he have buried it ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Who knows where it is now scattered to the 
four winds of heaven ? A fair damsel took an 
interest in him as he was strolling about, a 
stranger, in Naples. She manifested great fond- 
ness and fidelity towards him ; so much so, that 
he felt it even unto his blessed end. 

Martha. 

The villain ! the robber of his children ! And 
all the wretchedness, all the poverty, could not 
check his scandalous life. 

Mephistopheles. 

But consider, he has paid for it with his life. 
Now, were I in your place, I would mourn him 
for one chaste year, and have an eye towards a 
new sweetheart in the mean time. 



118 



Martha. 

Oil God ! but I shall not easily in this world 
find another like my first. There could hardly 
be a kinder-hearted fool; he only loved being 
away from home too much, and stranger women, 
and stranger wine, and the cursed dicing. 
Mephistopheles. 

Well, well, things might have gone on very 
well, if he, on his part, only winked at an equal 
number of peccadillos in you. I protest, upon 
this condition, I would change rings with you 
myself ! 10r 

MARTHA. 

Oh, the gentleman is pleased to jest. 

Mephistopheles ( aside ). 
Now it is full time to be off. I dare say she 
would take the devil himself at his word. 

( To Margaret.) 
How feels your heart ? 

Margaret. 
What do you mean ? 

Mephistopheles ( aside). 
Good, innocent child. 

( aloud.) 

Farewell, ladies ! 

Margaret. 

Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Oh, but tell me quickly ! I should like to have 
a certificate where, how, and when my love died 
and was buried. I was always a friend to regu- 
larity, and should like to read his death in the 
weekly papers. 



119 



Mephistopheles. 
Ay, my good Madam, the truth is manifested 
by the testimony of two witnesses 10S all the world 
over ; and I have a gallant companion, whom I 
will bring before the judge for you. I will fetch 
him here. 

Martha. 

Oh, pray do ! 

Mephistopheles. 
And the young lady will be here too ? — a fine 
lad ! has travelled much, and shows all possible 
politeness to the ladies. 

Margaret. 
I should be covered with confusion in the 
presence of the gentleman. 

Mephistopheles. 
In the presence of no king on earth. 
Martha. 

Behind the house there, in my garden, we shall 
expect you both this evening. 



120 



THE STREET. 

Faust — Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 

How have you managed ? Is it in train ? 
Will it soon do ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Bravo ! Do I find you all on fire ? Margaret 
will very shortly be yours. This evening you 
will see her at her neighbor Martha's. That is a 
woman especially chosen, as it were, for the pro- 
curess and gypsy calling. 

Faust. 

So far so good. 

Mephistopheles* 
Something, however, is required of us. 
Faust. 

One good turn deserves another. 

Mephistopheles. 

We have only to make a formal deposition that 
the extended limbs of her lord repose in holy 
ground in Padua. 

Faust. 

Wisely done ! We shall first be obliged to 
take the journey thither, I suppose. 



121 



Mephistopheles. 

Sancta simplicitas ! There is no necessity for 
that. Only bear witness without knowing much 
about the matter. 

Faust. 

If you have nothing better to propose, the 
scheme is at an end. 

Mephistopheles* 

Oh, holy man ! There's for you now ! Is it 
the first time in your life that you have borne 
false testimony ? Have you not confidently given 
definitions of God, of the world, and of whatever 
moves in it — of man, and of the working of his 
head and heart — with unabashed front, daunt- 
less breast ? And, looking fairly at the real na- 
ture of things, did you — you must confess you 
did not — did you know as much of these matters 
as of Mr. Schwerdtlein's death ? 

Faust. 

Thou art and ever wilt be a liar, a sophist* 
Mephistopheles. 

Ay, if one did not look a little deeper. To- 
morrow, too, will you not, in all honor, make a 
fool of poor Margaret, and swear to love her with 
all your soul ? 

Faust* 

And truly from my heart. 

Mephistopheles. 

Fine talking ! Then will you speak of eternal 
truth and love- — of one exclusive, all-absorbing 
passion ; — will that also come from the heart ? 



122 



Faust. 

Peace — - it will ! — when I feel, and seek 3 
name for the passion, the frenzy, but find none ? 
then range with all my senses through the world, 
grasp at all the most sublime expressions, and call 
this flame, which is consuming me, endless, eter- 
nal, eternal ! — is that a devilish play of lies ? 
Mephistopheles. 
I am right, for all that. 

Faust. 

Hear ! mark this, I beg of you, and spare my 
lungs. He who. is determined to be right and has 
but a tongue, will be right undoubtedly. But, 
come, I am tired of gossiping. For you are 
right, particularly because I cannot help myself. 



123 



GARDEN, 

Margaret on Faust's arm, Martha with Me- 
phistopheles, iccilldng up and down. 

Margaret. 
I am sure that you are only trifling with me — 
letting yourself clown to shame me. Travellers 
are wont to put up with things out of complacency. 
I know too well that my poor prattle cannot en- 
tertain a man of your experience. 

Fatjst. 

A glance, a word from thee, gives greater 
pleasure than all the wisdom of this world. 

(He hisses her hand.) 
Margaret. 
Don't inconvenience yourself! How can you 
kiss it ? It is so coarse, so hard. I have been 
obliged to do — heaven knows what not ; my 
mother is indeed too close. ( They pass on.) 

Martha. 

And you, sir, are always travelling in this 
manner ? 

Mephi s t ophel e s . 

Alas, that business and duty should force us to 
it ! How many a place one quits with regret, 
and yet may not tarry in it ! 



124 



Martha. 

It does very well in the wild years of youth, 
to rove about freely through the world. But the 
evil day comes at last, and to sneak a solitary old 
bachelor to the grave — that was never well for 
any one yet. 

Mephistopheles. 
I shudder at the distant view of it. 

Then, worthy sir, think better of it in time. 

(They pass on.) 

Margaret. 
Ay ! out of sight out of mind ! Politeness sits 
easily on you. But you have friends in abun- 
dance : they are more sensible than I am. 

Faust. 

0} thou excellent creature ! believe me, what 
is called sensible, often better deserves the name 
of vanity and narrow-mindedness. 

Margaret. 

How ? 

Faust* 

Alas, that simplicity, that innocence, never 
appreciates itself and its own hallowed worth ! 
That humility, lowliness — -the highest gifts of 
love-fraught, bounteous nature — - 

Margaret. 
Only think of me one little minute ; I shall 
have time enough to think of you. 

Faust. 

You are much alone, I dare say ? 



125 



Margaret. 
Yes, our household is but small, aud yet it 
must be looked after. We keep no maid ; I am 
obliged to cook, sweep, knit and sew, and run 
early and late. And my mother is so precise in 
every thing ! Not that she has such pressing 
occasion to restrict herself. We might do more 
than many others. My father left a nice little 
property — a small house and garden near the 
town. However, my days at present are toler- 
ably quiet. My brother is a soldier; my little 
sister is dead. I had my full share of trouble 
with her, but I would gladly take all the anxiety 
upon myself again, so dear was the child to me. 

Faust. 

An angel, if it resembled thee ! 

Margaret. 
I brought it up, and it loved me dearly. It 
was born after my father's death. YTe gave up 
my mother for lost, so sad was the condition she 
then lay in ; and she recovered very slowly, by 
decrees. Thus she could not think of suckling 
the poor little worm, and so I brought it up, all 
by myself, with milk and water. It thus became 
my own. On my arm, in my bosom, it smiled, 
and sprawled, and grew. 

Faust. 

You have felt, no doubt, the purest joy. 

Margaret. 
And many anxious hours, too. The little one's 
cradle stood at night by my bed-side ; it could 
scarcely move but I was awake ; now obliged to 



126 

give it drink ; now to take it to bed to me ; now, 
when it would not be quiet, to rise from bed. and 
walk up and down in the room dandling it ; and 
early in the morning, stand already at the wash- 
tub : then go to market and see to the house ; and 
so on, day after day. Under such circumstances, 
sir, one is not always in spirits ; but food and rest 
relish the better for it. ( They pass on.) 

Maetha. 

The poor women have the worst of it. It is 
no easy matter to convert an old bachelor. 

Mephistopheles. 
It only depends on one like you to teach me 
better. 

Martha. 

Tell me plainly, sir, have you never met with 
any one ? Has your heart never attached itself 
any where ? 

Mephistopheles, 
The proverb says — a hearth of one's own, a 
good wife, are worth pearls and gold. 

Martha. 

I mean, have you never had an inclination ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I have been in general very politely received. 
Martha. 

I wished to say— was your heart never seri- 
ously affected ? 

Mephistopheles, 
One should never venture to joke with women. 



Martha. 
Ah. you do not understand nie. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am heartily sorry for it. But I understand 
— that you are very kind. ( They pass on.) 

Faust. 

You knew me again, you little angel, the mo- 
ment I entered the garden. 

Margaret. 
Did you not see it ? I cast down my eyes. 

Faust. 

And you forgive the liberty I took — my im- 
pudence, as you were leaving the cathedral. 
■ 

Map gape t. 
I was quite abashed. Such a thing had never 
happened to me before ; no one could say any 
tiling bad of me. Alas, thought I, has he seen 
any thing bold, unmaidenly, in thy behavior? 
It seemed as if the thought suddenly struck him. 
" I need stand on no ceremony with this girl." 
I must own I knew not what began to stir in your 
favor here ; but certainly I was right angry 
with myself for not behig able to be more angry 
with you. 

Faust. 

Sweet love ! 

Margaret. 
Wait a moment ! 

( She plucks a star-flower, and picks off the 
leaves one after the other.) 



128 



Faust. 

What is that for — a nosegay ? 

Margaret. 
No, only for a game. 

Faust. 

How! 

Margaret. 

Go ! You will laugh at me. 

( She plucks off the leaves and murmers to 
herself.) 

Faust. 
What are you murmuring ? 

Margaret (half aloud j. 
He loves me — he loves me not ! 

Fau>t. 
Thou angelic being ! 

Margaret continues. 
Loves me — not — loves me — not — 
(Plucking off the last leaf with fond delight.) 
He loves me ! 

Faust. 

Yes. my child. Let this flower-prophecy be to 
thee as a judgment from heaven. He loves thee ! 
Dost thou understand what that means ? He 
loves thee ! ( He takes both her hands, j 

Margaret. 

I tremble all over ! 109 

Faust. 

Oh. tremble not. Let this look, let this pres- 



129 



sure of the hand, say to thee what is unuttera- 
ble ! — to give ourselves up wholly, and feel a 
bliss which must be eternal ! Eternal ! — its end 
would be despair ! No, no end ! no end ! 

(Margaret presses his hands, breaks f rom Aim, 

and runs away. He stands a moment in 

thought, and then follows her.) 

Martha (approaching ). 
The night is coming on. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay, and we will away. 

Martha. 

I would ask you to stay here longer, but it is a 
wicked place. One would suppose no one had 
any other object or occupation than to gape after 
his neighbor's incomings and outgoings . And one 
comes to be talked about, behave as one will. 
And our pair of lovers ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Have flown up the walk yonder. Wanton 
butterflies ! 

Martha. 
He seems fond of her. 

Mephistopheles. 
And she of him. Such is the way of the world. 



11 



130 



A SUMMER HOUSE. 

(Margaret runs in, gets behind the door, holds 
the tip of her finger to her lips, and peeps 
through the crevice.) 

Margaret. 

He comes ! 

Faust enters. 

Ah, rogue, is it thus you trifle with me ? I 
have caught you, at last. (He kisses her.) 

Margaret. 
( embracing him and returning the hiss.) 
Dearest ! from my heart I love thee ! 

(Mephistopheles knocks.) 
Faust ( stamping ). 
Who is there ? 

Mephistopheles. 

A friend. 

Faust. 

A brute. 

Mephistopheles. 
It is time to part, I believe. 

Martha comes up. 
Yes, it is late, sir* 

Faust. 
May I not accompany yon. 



131 



Margaret. 
My mother would — farewell ! 

Faust. 

Must I then go ? Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Adieu ! 

Margaret. 
Till our next speedy meeting ! 

[Faust and Mephistopheles exeunt. 2 
Margaret. 
Gracious God ! How many things such a man 
can think about! How abashed I stand in his 
presence, and say yea to every thing ! I am but 
a poor, silly girl ; I cannot conceive what he sees 
in me. 



132 



FOREST AND CAVERN. 

Faust (alone ). 

Sublime spirit! thou gavest me, gavest me 
every thing I prayed for. Not in vain didst thou 
turn thy face in fire to me. Thou gavest me glo- 
rious nature for a kingdom, with power to feel, to 
enjoy her. It is not merely a cold wondering 
visit that thou permittest me ; thou grudgest me 
not to look into her deep bosom, as into the bosom 
of a friend. Thou passest in review before me 
the whole series of animated things, and teachest 
me to know my brothers in the still wood, in the 
air, and in the water. And when the storm roars 
and creaks in the forest, and the giant-pine, pre- 
cipitating its neighbor-boughs and neighbor-stems, 
sweeps, crushing, down, — and the mountain 
thunders with a dead hollow muttering to the 
fall, — then thou bearest me off to the sheltered 
cave ; then thou showest me to myself, and deep 
mysterious wonders of my own breast reveal them- 
selves. And when the clear moon, with its sooth- 
ing influences, rises full in my view, — from the 
wall-like rocks, 110 out of the damp underwood, the 
silvery forms of past ages hover up to me, and 
soften the austere pleasure of contemplation. 

Oh, now I feel that nothing perfect falls to the 
lot of man! With this beatitude, which brings 
me nearer and nearer to the gods, thou gavest me 



133 



the companion, whom already I cannot do with- 
out ; although, cold and insolent, he degrades me 
in my own eyes, and turns thy gifts to nothing 
with a breath. He is ever kindling a wildfire in 
my heart for that lovely image. Thus do I reel 
from desire to enjoyment, and in enjoyment lan- 
guish for desire. 

Mephistopheles enters. 

Have you not had enough of this kind of life ? 
How can you delight in it so long ? It is all well 
enough to try once, but then on again to some- 
thing new. 

Faust. 

I would you had something else to do than to 
plague me in my happier hour. 

Mephistopheles. 

Well, well ! I will let you alone if you wish. 
You need not say so in earnest. Truly, it is lit- 
tle to lose an ungracious, peevish, and crazy com- 
panion in you. The livelong day one has one's 
hands full. One cannot read in your worship's 
face what pleases you, and what to let alone. 

Faust. 

That is just the right tone ! He would fain be 
thanked for wearying me to death. 

Mephistopheles. 

Poor son of earth ! what sort of life would you 
have led without me? I have cured you, for 
some time to come, of the crotchets of imagina- 
tion, and, but for me, you would already have 
taken your departure from this globe. Why 



mope in caverns and fissures of rocks, like an owl ? 
Why sip in nourishment from sodden moss and 
dripping stone, like a toad ? A fair, sweet pas- 
time ! The Doctor still sticks to you. 

Faust. 

Dost thou understand what new life-power this 
wandering in the desert procures for me ? Ay, 
could'st thou have but a dim presentiment of it, 
thou would'st be devil enough to grudge me my 
enjoyment. 

Mephistopheles. 

A super-earthly pleasure ! To lie on the 
mountains in darkness and dew • — clasp earth and 
heaven ecstatically — swell yourself up to a god- 
head — rake through the earth's marrow with 
your thronging presentiments — feel the whole 
six days' work in your bosom — in haughty might 
enjoy I know not what — now overflow, in love's 
raptures, into all, with your earthly nature cast 
aside and then the lofty intuition ( with a ges- 
ture ) — I must not say how — to end ! 

Faust. 

Fye upon you ! 

Mephistopheles. 

That is not to your mind. You are entitled to 
cry fye ! so morally ! We must not name to 
chaste ears what chaste hearts cannot renounce. 
And, in a word, I do not grudge you the pleasure 
of lying to yourself occasionally. But you will 
not keep it up long. You are already driven 
back into your old course, and, if this holds much 
longer, will be fretted into madness or torture and 



135 



horror. Enough of this ! your little love sits yon- 
der at home, and all to her is confined and mel- 
ancholy. You are never absent from her thoughts. 
She loves you all subduingly. At first, your pas- 
sion came overflowing, like a snow-flushed riv- 
ulet ; 111 you have poured it into her heart, and, 
lo ! your rivulet is dry again. Methinks, instead 
of reigning in the woods, your worship would do 
well to reward the poor young monkey for her love. 
The time seems lamentably long to her ; she 
stands at the window and watches the clouds roll 
away over the old walls of the town. " Were I 
a bird ! 99 112 so runs her song, during ail the day 
and half the night. One while she is cheerful, 
mostly sad, — one while fairly outwept ; 113 — then 
again, composed, to all appearance — and ever 
lovesick ! 

Faust. 

Serpent ! serpent ! 

Mephistopheles ( aside ). 
Good ! if I can but catch you ! 

Faust. 

Reprobate ! take thyself away, and name not 
the lovely woman. Bring not the desire for 
her sweet body before my half-distracted senses 
again ! 

Mephistopheles. 
What is to be done, then? She thinks that 
you are off, and in some manner you are. 

Faust. 

I am near her, and were I ever so far off, I can 
never forget, never lose her. Nay, I already 



136 



envy the very body of the Lord when her lips are 

touching it. 

Mephistopheles. 

Very well, my friend. I have often envied 
you the twin-pair, which feed among roses. 114 

Faust. 

Pander! begone. 

Mephistopheles. 

Good again! You rail, and I cannot help 
laughing. The God who made lad and lass, well 
understood the noble calling of making opportu- 
nity too. But away, it is a mighty matter to be 
sad about ! You should betake yourself to your 
mistress's chamber — not, I think, to death. 

Faust. 

What are the joys of heaven in her arms ? 
Let me kindle on her breast ! Do I not feel her 
wretchedness unceasingly? Am I not the out- 
cast — the houseless one ? — the monster without 
aim or rest — who, like a cataract, dashed from 
rock to rock, in devouring fury towards the preci- 
pice ? And she, upon the side, with childlike 
simplicity, in her little cot upon the little moun- 
tain field, and all her homely cares embraced 
within that little world ! 115 And I, the hated of 
God — it was not enough for me to grasp the 
rocks and smite them to shatters ! Her, her 
peace, must I undermine ! — Hell, thou could'st 
not rest without this sacrifice ! Devil, help me 
to shorten the pang! Let what must be, be 
quickly ! Let her fate fall crushing upon me, 
and both of us perish together ! 



137 



Mephistopheles. 
How it seethes and glows again ! Get in, 
and comfort her, you fool ! — When such a nod- 
dle sees no outlet, it immediately represents to 
itself the end. He who bears himself bravely, 
forever! And yet, on other occasions, you have 
a fair spice of the devil in you. I know nothing 
in the world more insipid than a devil that de- 
spairs. 



138 



MARGARET'S ROOM. 

Margaret alone, at the spinning-wheel 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

Where I have him not, 
Is the grave to me. 
The whole world 
Is imbittered to me. 

My poor head 
Is wandering, 
My feeble sense 
Distraught. 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

For him alone look I 
Out at the window ! 
For him alone go I 
Out of the house ! 

His stately step. 
His noble form ; 
The smile of his mouth, 
The power of his eyes. 



139 



And of his speech 
The witching flow ; 
The pressure of his hand, 
And, ah ! his kiss ! 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

My bosom struggles 
After him. 

Ah ! could I enfold him 
And hold him ! and kiss him 
As I would ! 
On his kisses 
Would I die away ! 



HO 



MAKTHA'S GARDEN. 

Margaret; Faust. 

Margaret, 
Promise me, Henry ! 

Faust. 

What I can ! 

Margaret. 

Now, tell me, how do you feel as to religion ? 
You are a dear, good man, but I believe you don't 
think much of it. 

Faust. 

No more of that, my child ! you feel I love 
you ; I would lay down my life for those I love, 
nor would I deprive any of their feeling and 
their church. 

Margaret. 
That is not right ; we must believe in it. 

Faust. 

Must we ? 

Margaret. 
Ah ! if I had any influence over you ! Be- 
sides, you do not honor the holy sacraments. 

Faust. 

I honor them. 



141 



Margaret. 
But without desiring them. It is long since 
you went to mass or confession. Do you believe 
in God? 

Faust. 

My love, who dares say, I believe in God? 
You may ask priests and philosophers, and their 
answer will appear but a mockery of the ques- 
tioner. 

Margaret. 
You don't believe, then ? 

Faust. 

Mistake me not, thou lovely one ! Who dare 
name him ? and who avow : " I believe in him ? " 
Who feel — and dare to say ; " I believe in him 
not ? " The All-embracer, the All-sustainer, does 
he not embrace and sustain thee, me, himself? 
Does not the heaven arch itself there above ? — 
Lies not the earth firm here below ? — And do not 
eternal stars rise, kindly twinkling, on high ! — 
Are we not looking into each other's eyes, 116 and 
is not all thronging to thy head and heart, and 
weaving in eternal mystery, invisibly — visibly, 
about thee ? With it fill thy heart, big as it is, 
and when thou art wholly blest in the feeling, 
then call it what thou wilt ! Call it Bliss ! — 
Heart ! — Love ! — God ! I have no name for 
it ! m Feeling is all in all. Name is sound and 
smoke, 118 clouding heaven's glow. 

Margaret. 

That is all very fine and good. The priest 
says nearly the same, only with somewhat differ- 
ent words. 



142 



Faust. 

All hearts in all places under the blessed light 
of day say it, each in its own language — why 
not in mine ? 

Margaret. 
Thus taken, it may pass; but, for all that, 
there is something wrong about it, for thou hast 
no Christianity ? 

Faust. 

Dear child ! 

Margaret. 

I have long been grieved at the company 
I see you in* 

Faust. 

How so? 

Margaret. 
The man you have with you is hateful to me 
in my inmost soul. 119 Nothing in the whole 
course of my life has given my heart such a 
pang, as the repulsive visage of that man. 

Faust. 

Fear him not, dear child. 

Margaret* 

His presence makes my blood creep. With 
this exception, I have kind feelings towards every 
body. But, much as I long to see you, I have 
an unaccountable horror of that man, and hold 
him for a rogue, besides. God forgive me, if I do 
him wrong. 

Faust. 

There must be such oddities, notwithstanding. 



143 



Margaret. 
I would not live with the like of him. When- 
ever he comes to the door, he looks in so mock- 
ingly, and with fury but half-suppressed ; one 
sees that he sympathizes with nothing. It is 
written on his forehead, that he. can love no living 
soul. I feel so happy in thy arms — so unre- 
strained — in such glowing abandonment; and 
his presence closes up my heart's core. 

Faust. 

You misgiving angel, you ! 

Margaret. 

It overcomes me to such a degree, that when 
he but chances to join us, I even think I do not 
love you any longer. And in his presence, I 
should never be able to pray ; and this eats into 
my heart. You, too, Henry, must feel the same. 

Faust. 

You have an antipathy, that is all. 

Margaret. 

I must go now. 

Faust. 

Ah, can I never recline one little hour undis- 
turbed upon thy bosom, and press heart to heart, 
and soul to soul ! 

Margaret. 
Ah ! did I but sleep alone ! I would gladly 
leave the door unbolted for you this very nio-ht. 
But my mother does not sleep sound, and were 
she to catch us, I should die upon the spot. 

Faust. 

Thou angel, there is no fear of that, You 



144 



see this pliial ! Only three drops in her drink 
will gently envelope nature in deep sleep. 

Margaret. 
What would I not do for thy sake ? It will do 
her no harm, I hope. 

Faust. 

Would I recommend it to you, my love, if it 
could? 

Margaret. 
If, best of men, I do but look on you, I know 
not what drives me to comply with your will. I 
have already done so much for you, that next to 
nothing now remains for me to do. [Exit, 

(Mephistopheles enters,) 
Mephistopheles. 
The silly monkey ! is she gone. 

Faust. 

Hast thou been playing the spy again ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I heard what passed, plainly enough. You 
were catechized, Doctor. Much good may it do 
you. The girls are certainly deeply interested 
in knowing whether a man be pious and plain 
after the old fashion. They say to themselves ; 
" if he is pliable in that matter, he will also be 
pliable to us." 

Faust. 

Thou, monster as thou art, can'st not conceive 
how this fond, faithful soul, full of her faith, 120 
which, according to her notions, is alone capa- 
ble of conferring eternal happiness, feels a holy 



145 

horror to think that she must hold her best be- 
loved for lost. 

Mephistopheles. 
Thou super-sensual, sensual lover, a chit of a 
girl leads thee by the nose. 

Faust. 

Thou abortion of dirt and fire ! 

Mephistopheles. 
And she is knowing in physiognomy, too. In 
my presence she feels she knows not how. This 
little mask betokens some hidden sense. She 
feels that I am most assuredly a genius — perhaps 
the devil himself. To-night, then — ? 

Faust. 
What is that to you ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I have my pleasure in it, though. 



12 



146 



AT THE WELL. 

Margaret and Bessy with pitchers. 
Bessy. 

Have you heard nothing of Barbara ? 

Margaret. 
Not a word. I go very little abroad. 
Bessy. 

Certainly, Sybella told it me to-day. She has 
even made a fool of herself, at last. That comes 
of playing the fine lady. 

Margaret. 

How so ? 

Bessy. 

It is a bad business. She feeds two now. when 
she eats and drinks. 

Margaret. 

Ah! 

Bessy. 

She is rightly served, at last. What a time she 
has hung upon the fellow ! There was a prom- 
enading and a gallanting to village junketings 
and dancing booths — she, forsooth, must be the 
first in every thing — he was ever treating her to 
tarts and wine. She thought great things of her 
beauty, and was so lost to honor as not to be 
ashamed to receive presents from him, There 



147 



was then a hugging and kissing — and, lo, the 
flower is gone ! 

Margaret. 

Poor thing ! 

Bessy. 

You really pity her! When the like of us 
were at the spinning, our mothers never let us go 
down at night. She stood sweet with her lover ; 
on the bench before the door, and in the dark 
walk, the time was never too long for them. But 
now she may humble herself, and do penance, in 
a white sheet, in the church. 

Margaret. 

He will surely make her his wife. 

Bessy. 

He would be a fool if he did. A brisk young 
fellow has the world before him* Besides, he's 
off. 

Margaret* 
That 's not handsome ! 

Bessy. 

If she gets him, it will go ill with her. The 
boys will tear her garland for her, and we will 
strew cut straw before her door. 121 \Exit* 
Margaret ( going home ). 

How stoutly I could formerly revile, if a poor 
maiden chanced to make a slip ! how I could 
never find words enough to speak of another's 
shame ! How black it seemed to me ! and, black- 
en it as I would, it was never black enough for 
me — and blessed myself and felt so grand, and 
am now myself a prey to sin ! Yet — all that 
drove me to it, was, Gocl knows, so sweet, so 
dear ! 



148 



ZWIXGER. 123 

( In the niche of the wall a devotional linage of the 
Mater Dolorosa, m ivith pots of flowers before 

a.) 

Margaret places fresh flowers in the pots. 

Ah, incline, 
Thou full of pain, 

Th j countenance graciously to my distress. 

The sword in thy heart, 

With thousand pangs 

Up-lookest thou to thy Son's death. 

To the Father look'st thou, 

And sendest sighs 

Aloft for his and thy distress. 

Who feels 

How rages 

My torment to the quick ? 
How the poor heart in me throbbeth. 
How it trembleth, how it yearneth, 
Knowest thou and thou alone ! 

Whitherso'er I go, 

What woe, what woe, what woe, 

Grows within my bosom here ! 

Hardly, alas, am I alone, 

I weep, I weep, I weep, 

My heart is bursting within me ! 



149 



The flower-pots on my window-sill 
Bedewed I with my tears, alas ! 
When I at morning's dawn 
Plucked these flowers for thee. 

When brightly in my chamber 
The rising sun's rays shone, 
Already, in all wretchedness, 
Was I sitting Tip in my bed. 

Help ! rescue me from shame and death ! 
Ah, incline, 
Thou full of pain, 

Thy countenance graciously to my distress 



150 



NIGHT. 

STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR. 

Valentine (a soldier, Margaret's brother). 

When I made one of a company, where many 
like to show off, and the fellows were loud in their 
praises of the flower of maidens, and drowned 
their commendation in bumpers, — with my el- 
bows leaning on the board, I sat in quiet confi- 
dence, and listened to all their swaggering ; then 
I stroke my beard with a smile, and take the 
bumper in my hand, and say : " All very well in 
its way ! but is there one in the whole country to 
compare with my dear Margaret ; — who is fit to 
hold a candle to my sister?" Hob and nob, 
kling ! klang ! so it went round ! Some shouted, 
" he is right ; she is the pearl of the whole sex ; " 
and all those praisers were dumb. And now — 
it is enough to make one tear out one's hair by 
the roots, and run up the walls — I shall be twit- 
ted by the sneers and taunts of every knave, shall 
sit like a bankrupt debtor, and sweat at every 
chance word. Ajid though I might crush them 
at a blow, yet I could not call them liars. Who 
comes there ? Who is slinking this way ? If I 
mistake not, there are two of them. If it is he, 
I will have at him at once ; he shall not leave 
this spot alive. 

Faust. 

How^ from the window of the Sacristy there, 



151 



the light of the eternal lamp flickers upwards, 
and glimmers weaker and weaker at the sides, 
and darkness thickens round! Just so is all 
night-like in my breast 

Mephistopheles. 
And I feel languishing like the tom-cat, that 
sneaks along the fire-ladders and then creeps 
stealthily round the walls. I feel quite virtuous- 
ly, — with a spice of thievish pleasure, a spice of 
wantonness. In such a manner does the glorious 
Walpurgis night already thrill me through every 
limb. The day after to-morrow it comes round 
to us again ; there one knows what one wakes for. 

Faust. 

In the mean time, can that be the treasure ris- 
ing, 124 — that which I see glimmering yonder ? 

Mephistopheles. 
You will soon enjoy the lifting up of the casket. 
I lately took a squint at it. There are capital 
lion-dollars 125 within! 

Faust. " 

Not a trinket — not a ring — to adorn my love- 
ly mistress with ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I think I saw some such thing there as a sort 
of pearl necklace. 

Faust. 

That is well. I feel sorry when I go to her 
without a present. 

Mephistopheles. 
You ought not to regret having some enjoy- 
ment gratis. Now that the heavens are studded 



152 

thick with stars, you shall hear a true piece of art. 
I will sing her a moral song, to make a fool of her 
the more certainly. 

( He sings to the guitar.) 

What are you doing here, Catherine, 126 before 
your lover's cloor at morning dawn ? Stay, and 
beware ! he lets thee in a maid, not to come out a 
maid. 

Beware ! If it be done, then good night to 
you, you poor, poor things. If you love your- 
selves, do nothing to pleasure any spoiler, except 
with the ring on the linger. 

Valentine comes forward. 

Whom art thou luring here? by God! thou 
cursed rat-catcher ! 127 First, to the devil with 
the instrument, then to the devil with the singer. 

Mephistopheles. 
The guitar is broken to pieces ! It is all up 
with it ! 

Valentine. 
Now then for a scull- cracking. 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 

Don't give way, Doctor ! Courage ! Stick 
close, and do as I tell you. Out with your toast- 
ing-iron ! 128 Thrust away and I will parry. 

Valentine. 

Parry that! 

Mephistopheles. 

Why not ? 

Valentine. 

And that ! 



to 



153 

Mephistopheles. 

To be sure. 

Valentine. 
I believe the devil is fighting. What is that ? 
My hand is already getting powerless. 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 
Thrust home ! 

Valentine falls. 

Oh, torture ! 

Mephistopheles. 

The clown is tamed now. But away ! We 
must vanish in a twinkling, for a horrible outcry 
is already raised. I am perfectly at home with 
the police, but should find it hard to clear scores 
with the criminal courts. 129 

Martha (at the window ). 
Out! out! 

Margaret ( at the window). 
Bring a light ! 

Martha ( as before). 

They are railing and scuffling, screaming and 
fighting. 

People. 
Here lies one dead, already ? 

Martha ( coming out). 
Have the murderers escaped ? 

Margaret ( coming out ). 
Who lies here ? 



154 



People. 

Thy mother's son. 

Margaret. 
Almighty God ! what misery ! 

Valentine. 
I am dying ! that is soon said, and sooner still 
done. What are you women howling and wail- 
ing about ? Approach and listen to me. 

( all come round him.) 
Look ye , Margaret ! you are still young ! you 
are not yet adroit enough, and manage your mat- 
ters ill. I tell it you in confidence ; since you 
are, once for all, a whore, be one in good earnest. 

Margaret. 

Brother ! God ! What do you mean ? 
Valentine. 

Leave God out of the game. What is done, 
alas ! cannot be undone, and things will take 
their course. You begin privately with one ; 
more of them will soon follow ; and when a dozen 
have had you, the whole town will have you too. 

When first shame is born, 130 she is brought into 
the world clandestinely, and the veil of night is 
drawn over her head and ears. Ay, people 
would fain stifle her. But when she grows and 
waxes big, she walks flauntingly in open day, and 
yet is not a whit the fairer. The uglier her face 
becomes, the more she courts the light of day. 

I already see the time when all honest citizens 
will turn aside from you, you whore, as from an 
infected corpse. Your heart will sink within you 
when they look you in the face. You will wear 
no golden chain again ! Ko more will you stand 



155 



at the altar in the church, or take pride in a fair 
lace collar at the dance. You will hide yourself 
in some dark miserable corner, amongst beggars 
and cripples, and, even should God forgive you, 
be cursed upon earth ! 

Martha. 

Commend your soul to God's mercy. Will you 
yet heap the sin of slander upon your soul ? 

Valentine. 
Could I but get at thy withered body, thou 
shameless bawd, I should hope to find a full 
measure of pardon for all my sins ! 

Margaret, 
My brother ! Oh, this agonizing pang ! 

Valentine. 
Have done with tears, I tell you. When you 
renounced honor, you gave me the deepest 
heartstab of all. I go through death's sleep unto 
God, a soldier and a brave one. ( He dies.) 



156 



CATHEDRAL, 

SERVICE, ORGAN, and ANTHEM. 

Margaret amongst a number of People. Evil 
Spirit behind Margaret. 131 

Eyil Spirit. 
How different was it with thee, Margaret, 
When still full of innocence 
Thou earnest to the altar there — 
Out of the well-worn little book, 
Lispedst prayers, 
Half child-sport, 
Half God in the heart ! 
Margaret ! 
Where is thy head ? 
In thy heart 
What crime ? 

Prayest thou for thy mother's soul — who 
Slept over into long, long pain through thee ? 
Whose blood on thy threshold ? 

And under thy heart 

Stirs it not quickening, even now, 132 
Torturing itself and thee 
With its foreboding presence ? 



157 



Margaret. 

Woe ! woe ! 

Would that I were free from the thoughts. 
That come over and across me 
Despite of me ! 

Chorus. 
Dies me, dies ilia 

Solvet sseclum in favilla. ( Organ plays.) 

Evil Spirit. 

Horror seizes thee ! 
The Trump sounds ! 
The graves tremble ! 
And thy heart 
From the repose of its ashes 
For fiery torment 
Brought to life again, 
Trembles up ! 

Margaret. 

Would that I were hence ! 
I feel as if the organ 
Stifled my breath/' 3,3 
As if the anthem 
Dissolved my heart's core ! 

Chorus. 

Judex ergo cum ceclebit 
Quiclquid latet adparebit 
Nil inultum remanebit. 

Margaret. 
I feel so thronged ! 
The wall-pillars 
Close on me ! 



158 



The vaulted roof 
Presses on rue ! — Air ! 

Evil Spirit. 

Hide thyself! Sin and shame 
Remain, unhidden. 
Air ? Light ? 
Woe to thee ! 

Chorus. 

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 
Quern patronum rogaturus ? 
Cum vix justus sit securus. 

Evil Spirit. 

The glorified from thee 

Avert their faces. 

The pure shudder 

To reach thee their hands. 

Woe ! 

Chorus. 
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 

Margaret. 
Neighbor : your smelling-bottle ! 

(She sivoons away. ) 



159 



MAY-DAY NIGHT. 

THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS, 

District of Schirke and Elend. lu 

Faust ; Mephistopheles. 

Mephistopheles. 
Do you not long for a broomstick ? For my 
part, I should be glad of the roughest he-goat. 
By this road we are still far from our destination. 

Faust. 

So long as I feel fresh upon my legs, this knot- 
ted stick suffices me. What is the use of short- 
ening the way ? To creep along the labyrinth of 
the vales, and then ascend these rocks, from which 
the ever-bubbling spring precipitates itself, — this 
is the pleasure which gives zest to such a path. 
The spring is already weaving in the birch trees, 
and even the pine is beginning to feel it, — ought 
it not to have some effect upon our limbs ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Verily, I feel nothing of it. All is wintry in 
my body, and I should prefer frost and snow upon 
my path. How melancholy the imperfect disk 
of the red moon rises with belated glare ! and 
gives so bad a light, that, at every step, one runs 



160 



against a tree or a rock. With your leave, I will 
call a will-o'the-wisp. I see one yonder, burning 
right merrily. Holloa, there, my friend ! may I 
intreat your company? Why wilt thou blaze 
away so uselessly ? Be so good as to light us up 
along here. 

Will-o'the-Wisp. 

Out of reverence, I hope, I shall succeed in 
subduing my unsteady nature. Our course is 
ordinarily but a zigzag one. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ha! ha! you think to imitate men. But go 
straight, in the devil's name, or I will blow your 
flickering life out. 

Will-o'the-TTisp. 

I see well that you are master here, and will 
willingly accommodate myself to you. But con- 
sider ! the mountain is magic-mad to-night, and 
if a will-o'the-wisp is to show you the way, you 
must not be too particular. 

Faust, Mephistopheles, Will-o'the-Wisp, 
in alternating song. 

Into the sphere of dreams and enchantments, 
it seems, have we entered. Lead us right, and 
do yourself credit ! — that we may advance be- 
times in the wide, desolate regions. 

See trees after trees, how rapidly they move 
by ; and the cliffs, that bow, and the long-snouted 
rocks, how they snort, how they blow ! 

Through the stones, through the turf, brook 
and brooklmg hurry down. 135 Do I hear rustling ? 



161 



do I hear songs ? do I hear the sweet plaint of 
l ove ? — voices of those blest clays ? ■ — what we 
hope, what we love ! And Echo, like the tale of 
old times, sends back the sound. 

Tu-whit-tu-whoo 130 — it sounds nearer ; the owl, 
the pewet, and the jay, — have they all remained 
awake? Are those salamanders through the 
brake, with their long legs, thick paunches ? And 
the roots, like snakes, 137 wind from out of rock 
and sand, and stretch forth strange filaments to 
terrify, to seize us : from coarse speckles, instinct 
with life, they set polypus-fibres for the traveller. 
And the mice, thousand-colored, in whole tribes, 
through the moss and through the heath ! And 
the glow-worms fly, in crowded swarms, a con- 
founding escort. 

But tell me whether we stand still, or whether 
we are moving on. Every thing seems to turn 
round, — rocks and trees, which make grimaces, 
and the will-o'the-wisps, winch multiply, which 
swell themselves out. 

Mephistopheles. 
Keep a stout hold of my skirt ! Here is a 
central peak, from which one sees with wonder 
how Mammon is glowing in the mountain. 

Faust. 

How strangely a melancholy light, of morning 
red, glimmers through the mountain gorges, and 
quivers even to the deepest recesses of the preci- 
pice. Here rises a mine-damp, there float exhal- 
ations. Here the glow sparkles out of gauze-like 
vapor, then steals along like a fine thread, and 
then again bursts forth like a fountain. Here it 
winds, a whole track, with a hundred veins, 
13 



162 



through the valley ; and here, in the compressed 
corner, it scatters itself at once. 138 There sparks 
are sputtering near, like golden sand upsprinkled 
in the air. But, see ! the wall of rocks is on fire 
in all its height. 

Mephistopheles. 
Does not Sir Mammon illuminate his palace 
magnificently for this festival ? It is lucky that 
you have seen it. I already see traces of the 
boisterous guests. 

Faust. 

How the storm-blast 139 is rasing through the 
air ! With what thumps it strikes against my 
neck ! 

Mephistopheles. 

You must lay hold of the old ribs of the rock, 
or it will hurl you down into this abyss. A mist 
thickens the night. Hark ! what a crashing 
through the forest! The owls fly scared away. 
Hark, to the splintering of the pillars of the ever- 
green palaces ! the crackling and snapping of the 
boughs, the mighty groaning of the trunks, the 
creaking and yawning of the roots! — -All come 
crashing down, one over the other,, in fearfully- 
confused fall; and the winds hiss and howl 
through the wreck-covered cliffs ! Dost thou 
hear voices aloft ? — in the distance ? — close at 
hand ? — Ay, a raving witch-song streams along 
the whole mountain. 

The Witches (in chorus). 

To the Brocken the witches repair ! The stub- 
ble is yellow, the sown-fields are green. — There 
the huge multitude is assembled. Sir Urian 140 



163 

sits at the top. On they go, over stone and stock ; 
the witch s, the he-goat s. 141 

Voices. 

Old Baubo conies alone ; she rides upon a 
farrow-sow. 

Chorus. 

Then honor to whom honor is due ! Mother 
Baubo to the front, and lead the way ! A proper 
sow and mother upon her, — then follows the 
whole swarm of witches. 

Voice. 

Which way did you come ? 

Voice. 

By Bsenstein. 142 I there peeped into the owl's 
nest. She gave me such a look ! 

Voice. 

Oh, driye to hell! What a rate you are 
riding at ! 

Voice. 

She has grazed me in passing : only look at the 
wound ! 

Chorus of Witches. 

The way is broad — the way is long. What 
mad throng is this ? The fork sticks — the be- 
som scratches : the child is suffocated — the moth- 
er bursts. 

Wizards. — Half-Chorus. 

We steal along like snails in their house ; the 
women are all before ; for. in going to the house 
of the wicked one, woman is a thousand steps in 
adyance. 143 



164 



The other Half. 
We do not take that so, precisely. The woman 
does it with a thousand steps ; but, let her make 
as much haste as she can, the man does it at a 
single bound. 

Voices ( above ). 
Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee ! 

Voices (from below ). 
We should like to mount with you. We wash 
and are thoroughly clean, but we are ever barren. 

Both Choruses. 
The wind is still, the stars fly, the melancholy 
moon is glad to hide herself. The magic-choir 
sputters forth sparks by thousands in its whizzing. 

Voice (from below ). 
Hold! hold! 

Voice (from above ). 
Who calls there, from the cleft in the rock ? 

V oice (from below ). 
Take me with you ! take me with you ! I 
have been mounting for three hundred years al- 
ready, and cannot reach the top. I would fain be 
with my fellows. 

Both Choruses. 

The besom carries, the stick carries, the fork 
carries, the he-goat carries. Who cannot raise 
himself to-night, is lost forever. 

Demi- Witch (below ). 

I have been tottering after such a length of 
time ; — how far the others are ahead, already ! 



165 



I have no rest at home, — and don't get it here, 
neither. 

Chorus of Witches. 

The salve gives courage to the witches ; a rag 
is good for a sail ; every trough makes a good 
ship ; he will never fly, who flew not to-night. 

Both Choruses. 
And when we round the peak, sweep along the 
ground, and cover the heath far and wide with 
your swarm of witch-hood. 

( They let themselves doivn.) 
Mephistopheles. 
There 's crowding and pushing, rustling and 
clattering ! There 's whizzing and twirling, bust- 
ling and babbling ! There 's glittering, sparkling, 
stinking, burning ! A true witch-element ! But 
stick close to me, or we shall be separated in a 
moment. Where art thou ? 

Faust ( in the distance ). 

Here ! 

Mephist ophele s . 
What ! already torn away so far ? I must 
exert my authority as master. Room ! Squire 
Voland comes ! Make room, sweet people, 144 
make room ! Here, Doctor, take hold of me ! 
and now, at one bound, let us get clear of the 
crowd. It is too mad, even for the like of me. 
Hard by there, shines something with a peculiar 
light. Something attracts me towards those 
bushes. Come along, we will slip in there. 

Faust. 

Thou spirit of contradiction ! But go on ! thou 
inay'st lead me. But it was wisely done, to be 



166 



sure ! We repair to the Brocken on Walpur- 
gis's night — to try and isolate ourselves when 
we get there. 

Mephistopheles. 
Only see what variegated flames! A merry 
club is met together. One is not alone in a small 
company. 

Faust. 

I should prefer being above, though! I al- 
ready see flame and eddying smoke. Yonder the 
multitude is streaming to the Evil One. Many 
a riddle must there be untied. 145 

Mephistopheles. 
And many a riddle is also tied anew. Let the 
great world bluster as it will, we will here house 
ourselves in peace. It is an old saying, that in 
the great world one makes little worlds. Yonder 
I see young witches, naked and bare, and old 
ones, who prudently cover themselves. Be com- 
pliant, if only for my sake ; the trouble is small, 
the sport is great. I hear the tuning of instru- 
ments. Confounded jangle ! One must accustom 
One's self to it. Come along, come along ! it cannot 
be otherwise. I will go forward and introduce 
you, and I shall lay you under a fresh obligation. 
What sayest thou, friend? This is no trifling 
space. Only look ! you can hardly see the end. 
A hundred fires are burning in a row. People 
are dancing, talking, cooking, drinking, love- 
making ! Now tell me where any thing better is 
to be found ! 

Faust. 

To introduce us here, do you intend to present 
yourself as wizard or devil ? 



167 



Mephistopheles. 

In truth, I am much used to go incognito. But 
one shows one's orders on gala days. I have no 
garter to distinguish me, but the cloven foot is 
held in high honor here. Do you see the snail 
there ? she comes creeping up, and with her feel- 
ers has already found out something in me. Even 
if I would, I could not deny myself here. But 
come ! we will go from fire to fire ; I will be the 
pander, and you shall be the gallant. 

{To some who are sitting round some expiring 
embers.) 

Old gentlemen, what are you doing here at the 
extremity ? I should commend you, did I find 
you nicely in the middle, in the thick of the riot 
and youthful revelry. Every one is surely enough 
alone at home. 

General. 

Who can put his trust in nations, though he 
has done ever so much for them ? For with the 
people, as with the women, youth has always 
the upper hand. 

Minister. 

At present, people are wide astray from the 
right path — the good old ones for me ! For, 
verily, when we were all in all, that was the true 
golden age. 

Parvenu. 

We, too, were certainly no fools, and often did 
what we ought not. But now, every thing is 
turned topsy-turvy, and just when we wished to 
keep it firm. 



1G8 



Author. 

Who. now-a-days, speaking generally, like.- to 
read a work of even moderate sense? And, as 
for the rising generation, they were never so 
malapert. 

Mephistopheles, 
( who all at once appears very old,) 
I feel the people ripe for doomsday, now that I 
aseend the witeh-monntain for the last time ; 14C 
and because my own cask runs thick, the world 
also is come to the dregs. 

A Witch, 
(who sells old clothes and frippery.) 
Do not pass by in this manner, gentlemen ! 
Now is your time. Look at my wares attentive- 
ly ; I have them of all sorts. And yet there is 
nothing in my shop which has not its fellow 
upon earth — that has not, some time or other, 
wrought proper mischief to mankind and to the 
world. There is no dagger here, from which 
blood has not flowed ; 14 ' no chalice, from which 
hot consuming poison has not been poured into a 
healthy body ; no trinket, which has not seduced 
some amiable woman ; no sword, which has not 
cut some tie asunder, which has not perchance 
stabbed an adversary from behind. 

Mephistopheles. 
Cousin ! you understand but ill the temper of 
the times. Done, happened ! Happened, done ! 
Take to dealing in novelties ; novelties only have 
any attraction for us. 

Faust. 

If I can but keep my senses ! This is a fair 
with a vengeance ! 



169 

Mefhistopheles. 
The whole throng struggles upwards. You 
think to shove and you yourself are shoved. 

Faust. 
Who, then, is that ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark her well ! That is Lilith. us 

Faust. 

Who ? 

Mephistop&eles* 
Adam's first wife. Beware of her fair hair, 
of that ornament in which she shines preeminent. 
When she ensnares a young man with it. she does 
not let him off again so easily. 

Faust. 

There sit two, the old one with the young one. 
They have already capered a good bit ! 

Mephistopheles. 
That has neither stop nor stay to-night. A 
new dance is beginning ; come, we will set to. 

Faust ( dancing with the young one J, > 
I had once upon a time a fair dream. In it I 
saw an apple-tree ; two lovely apples glittered on 
it ; they enticed me, I climbed up. 

The Faiii Oxe. 
You are very fond of apples, and have been so 
from Paradise downwards. I feel moved with 
joy, that my garden also bears such. 

Mephistopheles (with the old one). 
I had once upon a time a wild dream. In it 



170 



I saw a cleft tree. It had a ; 

as it was 3 it pleased rne, notwithstanding. 

The Old One, 

I present rny best respects to the knight of the 

cloven foot. Let him have a ready. 

if he does not fear . 

PROCKTOPHANTAS3IIST. 149 

Confounded mob ! how dare vou ? Was it 
not long since demonstrated to you? A spirit 
never stands upon ordinary feet ; and you are 
actually dancing away, like us other mortals ! 

The Fair Oxe. 

What does he come to our ball for, then ? 

Faust ( dancing ). 

Ha ! He is absolutely every where. He must 
appraise what others dance ! If he cannot talk 
about every step, the step is as good as never 
made at all. He is most vexed, when we go 
forwards. If you would but turn round in a cir- 
cle, as he does in his old mill, he would tenn that 
good, I dare say ; particularly were you to con- 
sult Mm about it. 

Pro cktophaxta s:\iist. 
You are still there, then ! No, that is unheard 
of! But vanish ! We have enlightened the 
world, you know ! That devil's crew, they pay 
no attention to rules. We are so wise, and Tegel 
is haunted, notwithstanding! How long ha\e I 
not been sweeping away at the delusion ; and it 
never becomes clean ! It is unheard of! 

The Fair Oxe. 
Have done boring us here, at any rate, then ! 



171 

Procktophaxtasmist. 

I tell you, Spirits, to your faces, I endure not 
the despotism of the spirit. My spirit cannot ex- 
ercise it. 

( The dancing goes on.) 
To-night I see, I shall succeed in nothing ; but 
I am always ready for a journey; and still hope, 
before my last step, to get the better of devils and 
poets. 

Mjephistopheles. 
He will forthwith seat himself in a puddle ; 
that is his mode of soothing himself ; and when 
leeches have amused themselves on his rump, he 
is cured of spirits and spirit. 

( To Faust, iclio has left the dance.) 
Why do you leave the pretty girl, who sung so 
sweetly to you in the dance ? 

Faust. 

Ah ! in the middle of the song, a red mouse 
jumped out of her mouth. 150 

Mephis t ophele s . 
There is nothing out of the way in that. One 
must not be too nice about such matters. Enough 
that the mouse was not grey. TTho cares for such 
things, in a moment of enjoyment? 

Faust. 

Then I saw — 

Mephistopheles. 

What ? 

Faust. 

Mephis to, do you see yonder a pale, fair girl. 



172 



standing alone and far off! She drags herself 
but slowly from the place : she seems to move 
with fettered feet. I must own, she seems to me 
to resemble poor Margaret. 

Mephistopheles. 
Have nothing to do with that! no good can 
come of it, to any one. It is a creation of en- 
chantment, is lifeless, — an idol. It is not well 
to meet it ; the blood of man thickens at its chill 
look, 151 and he is wellnigh turned to stone. You 
have heard, no doubt, of Medusa. 

Faust. 

In truth they are the eyes of a corpse, which 
there was no fond hand to close. That is the 
bosom, which Margaret yielded to me ; that is 
the sweet body, which I enjoyed. 

Mephistopheles. 
That is sorcery, thou easily deluded fool ; for 
she wears to every one the semblance of his 
beloved. 

Faust. 

What bliss ! what suffering ! I cannot tear 
myself from that look. How strangely does a 
single red line, no thicker than the back of a 
knife, adorn that lovely neck. 

Mephistopheles. 
Right ! I see it too. She can also carry her 
head under her arm, for Perseus has cut it off' 
for her. But ever this fondness for delusion ! 
Come up the hill, however ; here all is as merry 
as in the Prater ; 1,52 and, if I am not bewitched. 
I actually see a theatre. What is going on here, 
then ? 



173 



Servibilis. 
They will recommence immediately. A new 
piece, the last of seven ; — it is the custom 
here to give so many. A dilettante has written 
it, and dilettanti play it. Excuse me, gentle- 
men, but I must be off. It is my dilettante office 
to draw up the curtain. 

Mephistopheles. 
When I find you upon the Blocksberg, 153 — that 
is just what I approve ; for this is the proper 
place for you. 



9 



WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM ; 

OR 

OBERON AND TITANIA'S 
GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST. 



177 



Theatre-Manager* 

To-day we rest, for once ; we, the brave sons of 
Mieding. Old mountain and damp dale — that is 
the whole scenery ! 

Herald. 

That the wedding-feast may be golden, fifty 
years are to be past ; but if the quarrel is over, I 
shall like the golden the better. 

Oberon. 

If ye spirits are with me, this is the time to 
show it : the king and the queen, they are united 
anew. 

Puck. 

When Puck comes and whirls himself about 
and his foot goes whisking in the dance, — hun- 
dreds come after to rejoice along with him. 
Ariel. 

Ariel awakes the song, in tones of heavenly 
purity ; his music lures many trifles, but it also 
lures the fair. 

Oberon. 

Wedded ones, who would agree, — let them 
take a lesson from us two. To make a couple 
love each other, it is only necessary to separate 
them. 

TlTANIA. 

If the husband looks gruff, and the wife be 
14 



178 



whimsical, take hold of both of them immediately. 
Conduct me her to the South, and him to the ex- 
tremity of the North. 

Orchestra tutti. 
Fortissimo. 
Flies' snouts, and gnats' noses, with their kin- 
dred ! Frog in the leaves, and cricket in the 
grass : they are the musicians. 

Solo. 

See, here conies the bagpipe ! It is the soap- 
bubble. Hark to the Schnecke-schnicke-schnack 
through its snub-nose. 

Spirit that is fashioning itself. 
Spider's foot and toad's belly, and little wings 
for the little wight ! It does not make an ani- 
malcula, it is true, but it makes a little poem. 
A Pair of Loters. 

Little step and high bound, through honey-dew 
and exhalations. Truly, you trip it me enough, 
but you do not mount into the air. 

Inquisitive Traveller. 
Is not this masquerading-mockery ? Can I 
believe my eyes? To see the beauteous god, 
Oberon. here to-night, too ! 

Orthodox. 

ISTo claws, no tail! Yet it stands beyond a 
doubt, that, even as " The Gods of Greece," so 
is he too a devil. 

Northern Artist. 

What I catch, is at present only sketch-ways, a- 
it were ; but I prepare myself betimes for the 
Italian journey. 



179 



Purist. 

Ah ! my ill-fortune brings me hither ; what a 
constant scene of rioting ! and of the whole host 
of witches, only two are powdered. 

Young Witch. 

Powder as well as petticoats are for little old 
and grey women. Therefore- 1 sit naked upon 
my he-goat, and show a stout body. 

Matrox. 

We have too much good breeding to squabble 
with you here. But I hope you will rot, young 
and delicate as you are. 

Leader of the Band. 
Flies' snouts and gnat's noses, don't swarm so 
about the naked. Frog in leaves, and cricket in 
the grass ! Continue, however, to keep time, I 
beg of you. 

Weathercock ( towards one side ). 
Company to one's heart's content ! Truly, 
nothing but brides ! and young bachelors, man for 
man ! the hopefullest people ! 

Weathercock ( towards the other side ). 

And if the ground does not open, to swallow up 
all of them — with a quick run, I will immedi- 
ately jump into hell. 

Xenien. 

We are here as insects, with little sharp nebs, 
to honor Satan, our worshipful papa, according to 
his dignity. 

Hennings. 

See ! how naively they joke together in a 



180 

crowded troop. They will e'en say in the end, 
that they had good hearts. 

MUSAGET. 

I like full well to lose myself in this host of 
witches ; for, truly, I should know how to man- 
age these better than Muses. 

Ci-Devant Genius of the Age. 

With proper people, one becomes somebody. 
Come, take hold of my skirt ! The Blocksberg, 
like the German Parnassus, has a very broad top. 
Inquisitive Traveller. 

Tell me, what is the name of that stiff man. 
He walks with stiff steps. He snuffles every 
thing he can snuffle. " He is scenting out Jes- 
uits." 

The Crane. 
I like to fish in clear and even in troubled wa- 
ters. On the same principle you see the pious 
gentleman associate even with devils. 

"Worldling. 
Ay, for the pious, believe me, every thing is a 
vehicle. They actually form many a conventi- 
cle, here upon the Blocksberg. 

Dancer. 

Here is surely a new choir coming! I hear 
distant drums. But don't disturb yourselves ! 
there are single-toned bitterns among the reeds. 
Dancing-Master.* 

How each throws up his legs ! gets on as best 
he may! The crooked jumps, the clumsy hops, 
and asks not how it looks. 

This and the following stanza Avere added in the last 
complete Edition of Goethe's Works. 



181 



FlDDLER. 

How deeply this pack of ragamuffins hate each 
other, and how gladly they would give each other 
the finishing blow ! The bagpipe unites them 
here, as Orpheus's lyre the beasts. 

Dogmatist. 
I will not be put out of my opinion, not by 
either critics or doubts. The devil, though, must 
be something ; for how else could there be devils ? 
Idealist. 

Phantasy, this once, is really too masterful in 
my mind. Truly, if I be that All, I must be 
beside myself to-day. 

Realist. 

Entity is a regular plague to me, and cannot 
but vex me much. I stand here, for the first 
time, not firm upon my feet. 

Supernatttralist. 
I am greatly pleased at being here, and am 
delighted ' with these ; for, from devils, I can cer- 
tainly draw conclusions as to good spirits. 
Skeptic. 

They follow the track of the flame, and be- 
lieve themselves near the treasure. Only doubt 
(ziveifel) rhymes to devil (teufel). Here I am 
quite at home. 

Leader of the Band. 

Frog in the leaves, and cricket in the grass ! 
Confounded dilettanti ! Flies' snouts and gnats' 
noses ; you are fine musicians ! 

The Knowing Ones. 

Sansoiici, that is the name of the host of merry 



182 

creatures. There is no longer any walking upon 
feet, wherefore we walk upon our heads. 
The Maladroit Ones. 
In times past we have sponged many a tit-bit ; 
but now, good bye to all that ! Our shoes are 
danced through ; we run on bare soles. 

Will-o'the-Wisps. • 
We come from the bog, from which we are 
just sprung; but we are the glittering gallants 
here in the dance directly. 

Star-Shoot. 
From on high, in star-and-fire-light, I shot 
hither. I am now lying crooked-ways in the 
grass ; who will help me upon my legs ? 

The Massive Ones. 
Room! room! and round about! so down go 
the grass-stalks. Spirits are coming, but spirits 
as they are, they have plump limbs. 

Puck. 

Don't tread so heavily, like elephant's calves ; 
and the plumpest on this day be the stout Puck 
himself. 

Ariel. 

If kind nature gave — if the spirit gave you 
wings, follow my light track up to the hill of roses ! 
Orchestra ( pianissimo ) . 

Drifting clouds, and wreathed mists, brighten 
from on high ! Breeze hi the leaves, and wind 
in the rushes, and all is dissipated ! 



183 



A GLOOMY DAY. — A PLAIN. 

Faust ; Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 

In misery ! Despairing ! Long a wretched wan- 
derer upon the earth, and now a prisoner ! The 
dear, unhappy being, cooped up in the dungeon, 
as a malefactor, for horrid tortures ! Even to 
that ! to that ! Treacherous, worthless Spirit, and 
this hast thou concealed from me ! Stand, only 
stand! roll thy devilish eyes infuriated hi thy 
head ! Stand and brave me with thy unbearable 
presence ! A prisoner ! In irremediable misery ! 
Given over to evil spirits, and to sentence-pass- 
ing, unfeeling man ! 155 And me, in the mean 
time, hast thou been lulling with tasteless dissipa- 
tions, concealing her growing wretchedness from 
me, and leaving her to perish without help. 

Mephistopheles. 
She is not the first. 

Faust. 

Dog ! horrible monster ! — Turn him, thou In- 
finite Spirit ! turn the reptile back again into his 
dog's shape, in which he was often pleased to trot 
before me by night, to roll before the feet 15Q of 
the harmless wanderer, and fasten on his shoul- 



184 



ders when lie fell. Turn liiin again into his fa- 
vorite shape, that he may crouch on his belly be- 
fore ine in the sand, whilst I spurn him with my 
foot, the reprobate ! Not the first ! Woe ! woe ! 
It is inconceivable by any human soul, that more 
than one creature can have sunk into such a 
depth of misery, — that the first, in its writhing- 
death-agony, was not sufficient to atone for the 
guilt of all the rest in the sight of the Ever-par- 
doning. It harrows up my marrow and my very 
life, — the misery of this one : thou art grinning 
calmly at the fate of thousands. 

Mephistopheles. 

Now are we already at our wits' end again ! 
just where the sense of you mortals snaps with 
overstraining. Why dost thou enter into fellow- 
ship with us, if thou canst not go through with it ? 
WilFst fly, and art not safe from dizziness ? Did 
we force ourselves on thee, or thou thyself on us ? 

Faust. 

Gnash not thy greedy teeth thus defyingly at 
me ! I loathe thee ! Great, glorious Spirit, thou 
who deignest to appear to me, thou who knowest 
my heart and my soul, why yoke me to this shame- 
fellow, who feeds on mischief, and battens on de- 
struction ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Hast done ? 

Faust. 

Save her ! or woe to thee ! The most horrible 
curse on thee for thousands of years ! 



185 



Mephistopheles. 
I cannot loosen the shackles of the avenger, 
nor undo his bolts. — Save her ! Who was it 
that plunged her into ruin ? I or thou ? 

fFAUST looks wildly around.) 
Art thou grasping after the thunder ? Well that 
it is not given to you wretched mortals ! To 
dash to pieces one who replies to you in all inno- 
cence — that is just the tyrant's way of venting 
himself in perplexities. 

Faust. 

Bring me thither ! She shall be free ! 
Mephistopheles. 

And the danger to which you expose yourself? 
Know, the guilt of blood, from your hand, still 
lies upon the town. Avenging spirits hover over 
the place of the slain, and lie in wait for the re- 
turning murderer. 

Faust. 

That, too, from thee ? Murder and death of a 
world upon thee, monster ! Conduct me thither, 
I say, and free her ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I will conduct thee, and what I can, hear! 
Have I all power in heaven and upon earth ? I 
will cloud the gaoler's senses ; do you possess 
yourself of the keys, and bear her off with hu- 
man hand. I will watch! The magic horses 
will be ready, I will bear you off. This much I 
can do. 

Faust. 

XJp and away ! 



186 



NIGHT. — OPEN PLAIN. 

Faust and Mephistopheles rushing along 
upon black horses. 

Faust. 

What are they working — those about the 
Kavenstone yonder ? 157 

Mephistopheles. 

— Can't tell what they 're cooking and making- 

Faust. 

— Are waving upwards — waving downward? 
— bending — stooping. 

Mephistopheles. 
A witch company. 

Faust. 

They are sprinkling and charming. 

Mephistopheles. 

On! on! 



187 



DUNGEON. 
Faust. 

( With a bunch of leys and a lamp, before an iron 
wicket.) 

A tremor, long unfelt, seizes me ; the concen- 
trated misery of mankind fastens on me. Here, 
behind these damp walls, is her dwelling-place, 
and her crime was a good delusion ! 158 Thou 
hesitatest to go to her ! Thou fearest to see her 
again ! On ! thy irresolution lingers death hith- 
erwards. 

( He takes hold of the lock. — Singing loithin.) 
My mother, the whore, 159 
That killed me ! 
My father, the rogue, 
That ate me up ! 
My little sister 
Picked up the bones 
At a cool place ! 

There I became a beautiful little wood-bird. 
Fly away ! fly away ! 

Faust ( opening the lock). 
She has no presentiment that her lover is lis- 
tening, hears the chains clank, the straw rustle. 

( He enters.) 

Margaret (hiding her face in the bed of straw ). 
Woe ! woe ! They come. Bitter death ! 



188 



Faust (softly). 
Hush ! hush ! I come to free thee. 

Margaret (throwing herself before him ). 
If thou art human, feel for my wretchedness. 

Faust. 

- You will wake the guard by your cries ! 

(He takes hold of the chains to unlock them.) 

Margaret (on her knees). 

Who has given you, headsman, this j)ower over 
me ? You come for me whilst it is yet midnight. 
Be merciful, and let me live. Is not to-morrow 
morning soon enough? 

( She stands up.) 
I am yet so young, so young ! and am to die al- 
ready ! I was fair, too, and that was my undo- 
ing ! 1(30 My true-love was near ■ — he is now far 
away. Torn lies my garland, scattered the flow- 
ers. Don't take hold of me so roughly ! Spare 
me ! What have I done to you ? Let me not 
implore in vain ! I never saw you before in all 
my life, you know ! 

Faust. 

Can I endure this misery ! 

Margaret. 
I am now entirely in thy power. Only let me 
first give suck to the child. I pressed it this 
whole night to my heart. They took it away to 
vex me, and now say I killed it. And I shall 
never be happy again. They sing songs upon 
me ! It is wicked of the people. An old tale 
ends so, — who bids them apply it ? 



189 



Faust throws himself on the ground. 
A lover lies at thy feet, to unloose the bonds of 
wretchedness. 

Margaret throws herself by his side. 
Ay, let us kneel to invoke the saints. See 
under these steps, under the threshold, hell is 
seething! The Evil One, with fearful fury, is 
making a din. 

Fatjst (passionately). 
Margaret ! Margaret ! 

Margaret (listening ). 

That was my true-love's voice. 

( She springs up. The chains fall off.) 
Where is he ? I heard him call. I am free ! 
Nobody shall hinder me. I will fly to his neck ! 
lie on his bosom ! He called Margaret ! He 
stood upon the threshold. In the midst, through 
the howling and clattering of hell, through the 
grim, devilish scoffing, I knew the sweet, the 
loving tone agahi. 

Faust. 

Tis I. 

Margaret. 

'T is thou ! Ah, say so once again ! 

( Clasping Mm.) 

' Tis he! 'Tis he! Whither is all my wretch- 
edness ? Whither the agony of the dungeon ? — 
the chains ? 'T is thou ! Thou com'st to save 
me. I am saved ! — There again already is the 
street, where I saw thee for the first time ; and 
the cheerful garden where I and Martha waited 
for thee* 



190 



Faust ( Striving to take her aivoy ). 

Come ! come with me ! 

Margaret. 

Oh, stay ! I like to stay where thou stayest. 

(Caressing him.) 

Faust. 

Haste ! If you do not make haste, we shall 
pay dearly for it. 

Margaret, 

What ! you can no longer kiss ? So short a 
time away from me, my love, and already forgot- 
ten how to kiss ! Why do I feel so sad upon 
your neck ? when, in other times, a whole heaven 
came over me from your words, your looks ; 
and you kissed me as if you were going to 
smother me ! Kiss me ! or I will kiss you ! 

( She embraces him.) 

woe ! your Hps are cold, — are dumb. Where 
have you left your love ? who has robbed me of 
it? ( She turns from him.) 

Faust. 

Come ! follow me ! take courage, my love. 

1 will press thee to my heart with thousandfold 
warmth — only follow me ! I ask thee but this, 

Margaret ( turning to him ). 
And is it thou, then ? And is it thou, indeed ? 

Faust. 
'T is I. Come along. 

Margaret. 
You undo my fetters, you take me to your 
bosom again! How comes it that you are not 



191 



afraid of me ? And do you then know, my love, 
whom you are freeing ? 

Faust. 

Come, come ! the depth of night is already 
passing away. 

Margaret. 

I have killed my mother, I have drowned my 
child. Was it not bestowed on thee and me ? — 
on thee, too ? 'T is thou ! I scarcely believe it. 
Give me thy hand. It is no dream — thy dear 
hand ! — but oh, 't is damp ! Wipe it off. It 
seems to me as if there was blood on it. Oh. 
God ! what hast thou done ? Put up thy sword ! 
I pray thee, do ! 

Faust, 

Let what is past, be past. 101 Thou wilt kill me. 
Margaret. 

No, you must remain behind. I will describe 
the graves to you ! you must see to them the first 
thing to-morrow. Give my mother the best 
place ; — my brother close by ; — me, a little on 
one side, only not too far off ! And the little one 
on my right breast ; no one else will lie by me. 
To nestle to thy side, — that was a sweet, a dear 
delight ! But it will never be mine again. I feel 
as if I were irresistibly drawn to you, and you 
were thrusting me off. And yet, 't is you ; and 
you look so good, so kind. 

Faust. 

If you feel that 't is I, come along, 
Margaret. 

Out there ? 



192 



Faust. 

Into the free air ! 

Margaret. 
If the grave is without, if death lies in wait, — 
then come ! Hence into the eternal resting-place, 
and not a step farther. — Thou art now going 
away ? O Henry, could I but go too ! 

Faust. 

Thou canst ! Only consent ! The door stands 
open. 

Margaret. 

I dare not go out ; there is no hope for me ! 
What avails it flying ? They are lying in wait for 
me. It is so miserable to be obliged to beg, — 
and, what is worse, with an evil conscience, too. 
It is so miserable to wander in a strange land, — 
and they will catch me, do as I will. 

Faust. 

I shall be with thee. 

Margaret. 

Quick, quick ! Save thy poor child. Away ! 
Keep the path up by the brook — over the bridge 
— into the wood — to the left where the plank 
is — in the pond. 102 Only quick and catch hold 
of it ! it tries to rise ! it is still struggling ! Help ! 
help ! 

Faust. 

Be calm, I pray ! Only one step, and thou art 
free. 

Margaret. 
Were we* but past the hill! There sits my 
mother on a stone — my brain grows chill ! — 
there sits my mother on a stone, and waves her 



193 



head to and fro. She beckons not, she nods not, 
her head is heavy ; she slept so long, she '11 wake 
no more. She slept that we might enjoy our- 
selves. Those were pleasant times ! 

Faust. 

As no prayer, no persuasion, is here of any 
avail, I will risk the bearing thee away. 

Margaret. 
Let me go ! No, I endure no violence ! Lay 
not hold of me so murderously ! Time was, you 
know, when I did all to pleasure you. 

Faust. 

The clay is dawning ! My love ! my love ! 
Margaret. 

Day ! Yes, it is growing day ! The last day 
is breaking in ! My wedding-day it was to be ! 
Tell no one that thou hadst been with Margaret 
already. Woe to my garland ! It is all over 
now ! We shall meet again, but not at the dance. 
The crowd thickens ; it is not heard. The square, 
the streets, cannot hold them. The bell tolls — 
the staff breaks ! 163 How they bind and seize 
me! Already am I hurried off to the blood- 
seat ! 164 Already quivering for every neck is the 
sharp steel which quivers for mine. Dumb lies 
the world as the grave ! 

Faust. 

Oh that I had never been born ! 

Mephistopheles appears without ! 
Up ! or you are lost. "Vain hesitation ! Lin- 
gering and prattling ! My horses shudder ; the 
morning is gloaming up. 
15 



194 

Margaret. 
What rises up from the floor ? He ! He ! 
Send hini away ! What would he at the holy 
place ? He would me ! 

Faust. 

Thou shalt live ! 

Margaret. 

Judgment of God ! I have given myself up to 
thee. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust). 
Come ! come ! I will leave you in the scrape 
with her. 

Margaret. 
Thine am I, Father ! Save me, ye Angels ! 
Ye Holy Hosts, range yourselves round about, to 
guard me! 165 Henry! I tremble to look upon 
thee. 

Mephistopheles. 
She is judged ! 106 

Voice from above. 

Is saved ! 

Mephistopheles (to Faust). 
Hither to me ! ( disappears with Faust.) 

Voice from within, dying away, 
Henry ! Henry ! 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



1 . They hear not the following lays — the souls to whom I 
sang my first.] — To understand the Dedication; it is neces- 
sary to refer to the history of the book. The plan of Taust 
appears to have been in Goethe's mind very early in life. 
In the list appended to the Stuttgart and Tubingen octavo 
edition of 1819. he puts it down amongst the works written 
between 1769 and 1775. In the second pan of the Dichtung 
und Wahrhelt (Book 18). he states that he showed the newest 
scenes of Faust to Klopstock, who expressed himself much 
pleased, and (contrary to his custom) spoke of the poem 
with decided commendation to others. This must have 
taken place early in the year 1775. Maler Midler also, in 
the prefatory epistle to his Faust, published about 1 77S, 
mentions a report that Goethe and Lessing were engaged 
upon the same subject. The poem was first published in 
1790, and forms the commencement of the seventh volume 
of Goethe s Schriften : Wien unci Leipzig, bey J. Stahd unci G. 
J. Gosehen. 1790. This edition is now before me. The 
poem is entitled, Faust : Ein Fragment (not Doktor Faust, 
Em Trauerspiel, as Doling says), and contains no prologue 
or dedication of any sort. It commences with the scene in 



198 



Faust's study, (ante, p. 17,) and is continued as now down 
to the passage ending (ante, p. 25.) line 16. In the original, 
the line — 

" Und froh ist, wenn er Regenwurmer findet " — 

ends the scene. The next scene is one between Eaust and 
MephistopheleSj and begins thus : — 

Faust. 

# # # m m * # 
" Und was der ganzen Menschheit zugetheilt ist " — 

i. e. with the passage (ante, p. 65,) beginning : — "I will enjoy 
in my own heart's core all that is parcelled out amongst 
mankind." &c. All that intervenes in later editions is want- 
ing. It is thenceforth continued as now to the end of the 
Cathedral scene (ante, p. 156) : except that the whole scene 
in which Valentine is killed is wanting. Thus Margaret's 
prayer to the Virgin, and the Cathedral scene, come together 
and form the conclusion of the work. According to Do- 
ring's Verzeichniss, there was no new edition of Faust until 

1807. According to Dr. Stieglitz, the First Part of Faust 
first appeared in its present shape in the collected edition of 
Goethe's works which was published in 1808. I applied to 
Cotta, but could get no definite information as to the point, 
nor have I been yet fortunate enough to meet with the 
edition in question. 

Since this was written I have been favored by a commu- 
nication from M. Vamhagen von Ense, in the course of 
which he states that the First Part first appeared in the 
edition of Goethe's works published in duodecimo in 1807 
and in octavo in 1808. From the correspondence between 
Zeiter and Goethe, however, it would seem that this edition 
did not appear until 1808 ; for in a letter, dated July 13th. 

1808. we find Zeiter acknowledging the receipt of the 



199 



completed Faust, and requesting an explanation of the Inter- 
mezzo, which unluckily is not afforded to him. — Vol. i. p. 
322. 

2. Prologue on the Theatre^ — It must be borne in mind 
that the theatre is one of those temporary theatres or booths 
which are common at fairs, and that the company is sup- 
posed to be an itinerant one. 

3. Pleasing and instructive at once.] — 

" Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci." — 

Horace. 

4. People come to look.] — 

■■ Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, 
Quam qua? sunt oculis subjecta Melibus, et quae 
Ipse sibi tradit spectator." — Horace. 

5. Who brings much, ivitt bring something to many a one.] — 
The following passage in one of Madame de Sevigne's letters 
is a striking illustration of this aphorism and the passage it 
is taken from : " La Comeclie des Visionnaires nous rejouit 
beaucoup: nous trouvames que c'est la representation de 
tout ie monde ; chacun a ses visions plus ou moins 
marquees." The author of this play was Jean Desmerets 
de Saint- Sortin. 

6. Begone,' $*c] — Compare Wilhelm Master (Book ii. 
chap. ii.). in which somewhat similar notions of the poets 
vocation are put into the mouth of the hero, 

7. Much falsehood and a spark of truth.] — i; I cannot tell 
why, tins same truth is a naked and open daylight, that 
doth not show the masques, and mummeries, and triumphs 



200 



of the present world, half so stately and daintily as candle 
lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl 
that showeth best by day ; but it -will not rise to the price 
of a diamond or carbuncle, which showeth best in varied 
lights. A mixture of lies doth ever add pleasure. Doth 
any man doubt, that, if there were taken from men's minds 
vain opinions, nattering hopes, false valuations, imagina- 
tions as one icould, and the like vinum Damionum (as a 
rather calleth poetry), but it would leaye the minds of a 
number of men poor shrunken tilings, full of melancholy 
and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves ? " — (Lord 
Bacon, quoted in The Friend, vol. i. p. 9.) 

8. That, old gentlemen, is your duty.] — It was a favorite 
theory of Goethe, that the power of calling up the most vivid 
emotions was in no respect impaired by age, whilst the 
power of portraying them was greatly improved by expe- 
rience. 

" To cany on the feelings of childhood into the powers of 
manhood, to combine the child's sense of wonder and novelty 
with the appearances, which every day for perhaps forty 
years had rendered familiar, — 

Both sun, and moon, and stars throughout the year, 
And man and woman. — 

this is the character and privilege of genius, and one of the 
marks which distinguish genius from talents." — (Coleridge's 
Biog. Lit.) 

9. Use the greater and the lesser light of heaven.] — "And 
God made two great lights : the greater light to rule the 
day, and the lesser light to rule the night ; he made the 
stars also. 1 ' — Gen. i. 17. 



201 



Und Gott machte zwey grosse Lichter : ein grosses 
Liclit, das den Tag regiere, und ein kleines Licht, das die 
Nacht regiere ; dazu auch Sterne." — (Luther's Translation.) 

10. Prologue in Heaven] — The idea of this prologue is 
taken from the Book of Job, Chapters 1st and 2d. "It is 
worthy of remark/' says Dr. Schubart, " that in the guise 
in which the poet introduces his Mephistopheles, a great 
difference is to be seen between his mode of treating the 
principle of evil, and that followed by Clopstock, Milton, 
and Lord Byron in Cain. It has also been a matter of 
course, to hold to one side only of the biblical tradition, 
which represents Satan as an angel of light, fallen through 
pride and haughtiness, endeavoring to disturb the glorious 
creation of the Supreme Being. Goethe, on the contrary, 
has adhered rather to the other side of the tradition, of 
which the Book of Job is the groundwork, according to 
which Satan or the Devil forms one of the Lord's Host, 
not as a rebel against his will, but as a powerful tempter? 
authorized and appointed as such, &c." — (Vodesungen.) 
We are also called upon to admire the propriety of the parts 
assigned to the Archangels in the Introductory Song. 
Dr. Hinrichs shows some anxiety to establish, that The 
Lord depicted by Goethe, is the Lord of Christianity. On 
this subject he has the following note : — " That the Lord in 
this poem is the Christian God, and therefore the Divine 
Spirit, Cornelius also signifies in the title-page of his Illus- 
trations of Faust, where the Lord, in the middle of an un- 
equal square, begirt by a half circle of angels, bears the 
triple crown upon his head, and the terrestrial globe in 
his left hand ; whilst in Eetzsch's Illustrations of Faust, the 
Lord without the triple crown and the cross, does not ex- 
press the Christian God, and for that reason the conception 
is not embraced by it." — (Vorlesungen. p. 36.) 

Mr. Heraud, the writer of the able article in Frazer s 



202 



Magazine, quoted post. p. 203, says that Der Herr means the 
Second Person of the Trinity. It would be difficult to 
reconcile this notion with the supposed analogy to the Book 
of Job. 

11. The Sun chimes in, as ever with the emulous music of 
his brother spheres.] 

" Such music (as 'tis said) 
Before was never made, 
But when of old the sons of morning sung. 
While the Creator great 
His constellations set, 

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung. 

And cast the dark foundations deep. 

And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep. 

Ring out. ye crystal Spheres. 
Once bless our human ears. 
(If ye have power to touch our senses so.) 
And let your silver chime 
Move in melodious time. 
And let the base ofHeav ; ns deep organ blow: 
And with your nine -fold harmony 
Make up full consort to tlr angelic symphony. — 

Milton. 

Herder, in his comparison of Klopstoek and Milton, has 
said: — "A single ode of Klopstoek outweighs the whole 
lyric literature of Britian." I know nothing of Klopstock's 
that would outweigh this single Hymn on the Nativity. 

12. But thy messengers, Lord, respect the mild going of thy 
day.] — : - Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go. and 
say unto them. Here we are ? : ' — Job. xxxviii. 35. " And of 
the angels he saith. Who maketh his angels spirits and his 
ministers a flame of fire. — St. Paul. Heb. i. 7. 



203 



• ; The sightless couriers of the air 

Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7. 

" The day is placid in its going, 
To a lingering sweetness bound, 
Like a river in its flowing/' — Wordsworth. 

13. A good man in liis dark strivings, — Drang in this 
passage is untranslatable, though the meaning is clear. In 
rendering it as above, I had the striving of jarring impulses 
(Coleridge's Aids) in my mind. The same exalted confi- 
dence in human nature is expressed in another passage of 
Goethe's works : — 

■ Wenn einen Menschen die Natur erhoben, 
1st es kein AYunder, wenn ihrn viel gelingt ; 
Mann muss in ihm die Macht des Schopfers loben 
Der schwachem Thon zu solcher Ehre bringt : 
Doch wenn ein Mann von alien Lebensproben 
Die sauerste besteht, sich selbst bezwingt : 
Dann kann man ihn mit Ereude Andem zeigen, 
Und sagen : Das ist es; das ist sein eigen." — 

Geheimnisse. 

14. The scoffer is the least offensive to me.] — This does 
not convey the character of Mephistopheles, nor is there 
any English word that would. The meaning must be : 
I prefer a malicious, roguish devil, who laughs or scoffs 
at my works, to one who openly defies. 

15. The creative essence, &c] — It is quite impossible 
to translate this passage, and I have never seen a satis 
factory explanation of it. Das Werdende is, literally, The 
Becoming, but iverden is rather the Greek yivo^ai, than the 
English, to become. The Greek word, eysvejo (says Mr. 
Coleridge) unites in itself the two senses of began to exist. 



204 



and ivas made to exist : it exemplifies the force of the middle 
voice, in distinction from the verb reflex. — (Aids to Reflec- 
tion, 2d edit. p. 18.) 

One friend, whom I consulted about this passage, sent 
me the following version: — ' ; Creation's energy — ever 
active and alive — encircle you with the joyous bounds 
of love — and that which flits before you, a fluent and 
changeful phantom, do ye fix by the power of enduring 
thought ! " 

Mr. Carlyle interpreted it thus : — " There is. clearly, no 
translating of these lines, especially on the spur of the 
moment ; yet it seems to me the meaning of them is pretty 
distinct. The Lord has just remarked, that man (poor 
fellow) needs a devil, as travelling companion, to spur 
him on by means of Denial; whereupon, turning round 
(to the angels and other perfect characters) he adds, 'But 
ye, the genuine sons of Heaven, joy ye in the living 
fulness of the beautiful (not of the logical, practical, con- 
tradictory, wherein man toils imprisoned) ; let Being (or 
Existence) which is every where a glorious birth, into 
higher Being, as it forever works and lives, encircle you 
with the soft ties of love : and whatsoever wavers in the 
doubtful empire of appearance' (as all earthly things do), 
" that do ye, by enduring thought, make firm.' Thus would 
Das IVerdcnde. the thing that is a being (is o-being). mean 
no less than the universe (the visible universe) itself; 
and I paraphrase it by ' Existence, which is every where 
a birth, into higher Existence' (or in some such way), 
and make a comfortable enough kind of sense out of 
that quatrain." * 

i; A trifle more acquaintance with theology and German 
philosophy (says Mr. Heraud) would have saved a deal 
of the trouble thus taken; nor would some attention to 



* The passage in the original consists of four lines. 



205 



the character of the speaker and the nature of the occasion 
have been quite useless. The speaker is the second person 
in the Trinity, and the occasion is the breaking up of the 
sacred assembly, and the words, which he is made to utter, 
are intended for the Divine benediction at parting, in which 
he formally leaves them, to comfort them for his absence, 
according to the Scripture rule of proceeding, the loving 
influences of the Holy Spirit. The desire to be familiar 
in this dialogue — to make it dramatic rather than sacred — 
led Goethe to avoid religious terms of expression; and 
therefore he preferred the phrase, ; the becoming, that ever 
operates and lives,' to the 'fellowship or blessing of the 
Holy Ghost,' and similar modes of address, which are con- 
secrated to the service of public worship. ' The becoming ' 
(Das Werdende) is of course that which becomes, — L e. 
that which continually passes from one state to another, 
whose essence it is to do so. This is, undoubtedly, the 
office of the third person in the Trinity. The Lord, 
therefore, leaves and dismisses the angelic assembly with 
a benediction, recommending them to that divine influence 
which proceeds from the Father to the Son, and from both 
in an eternal procession, an operative and living principle, 
to whatsoever works and lives. This sphit he desires to 
remain with them, and to encompass them with the gentle 
enclosures of love.*' — (Preiser's Magazine for May. 1832.) 

Should any one think I am bestowing too much space 
upon a single passage, I would beg leave to remind him 
that the passage is a very singular one, and that books 
have ere now been written to fix the meaning of a phrase. 
The most eminent men in Italy joined in the controversy 
as to the freddo e caldo polo of Monti. 

16. I like to see the Ancient One occasionally^ — Shelley 
translates den Alien, The Old Fellow. But the term may 
allude merely to " The Ancient of Days," and is not 



206 



necessarily a disrespectful one. A correspondent pro- 
poses The Old Gentleman. I am also told that der Ake 
is a slang expression for the father. 

In allusion to Mephistopheles' liking to see The Lord 
occasionally, Dr. Hinrichs observes : — u A fallen angel, 
as Shakspeare himself says, is still an angel, who likes to 
see the Lord occasionally, and avoids breaking with him, 
wherefore we find Mephistopheles in heaven amongst the 
host." — p. 37. 

The following passage occurs in Falk : — " Yet even 
the clever Madame de Stael was greatly scandalized that 
I (Goethe) kept the devil in such good-humor. In the 
presence of God the Father, she insisted upon it, he ought 
to be more grim and spiteful. What will she say. if she 
sees him promoted a step higher. — nay. perhaps, meets 
him in heaven % " 

17. First Scene in Faust's Study.] — The opening scene 
in the Study is the only part in which the Faustus of 
Marlow bears any similarity to the Faust of Goethe. I 
give it, with the chorus, in which an outline of the tra- 
ditional stoiy is sketched: — 

ENTER CHORUS. 

Not marching in the fields of Tharsimen, 
Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthagen : 
Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, • 
In courts of kings, where state is overturned ; 
Nor in the pomp of proud, audacious deeds, 
Intends our muse to vaunt his heavenly verse ; 
Only this, gentles, we must now perform, 
The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad : 
And now to patient judgments we appeal, 
And speak for Faustus in his infancy : 
Now is he born of parents base of stock. 



207 



In Germany, within a town called Bhodes ; 

At riper years to Wittenbtng he went : 

So much he profits in divinity, 

That shortly he was graced with Doctor's name, 

Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute 

In th' heavenly matters of theology : 

Till, swoln with cunning and a self-conceit, 

His waxen wings did mount above his reach ; 

And melting heavens conspired his overthrow ; 

For falling to a devilish exercise, 

And glutted now with learning's golden gifts, 

He surfeits on the cursed necromancy. 

Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, 

Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss, 

Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up. 

And this the man that in his study sits. 

ACT THE PIRST. — SCENE I. 

Faustus in his study. 
Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin, 
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess ; 
Having commenced, be a divine in show, 
Yet level at the end of every art, 
And live and die in Aristotle's works. 
Sweet analytics, 't is thou hast ravished me. 
Bene disserere est fines logicis. 
Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end ? 
Affords this art no greater miracle ? 
Then read no more : thou hast attained that end, 
A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit : 
Bid economy farewell : and Galen come. 
Be a physician, Faustus : heap up gold, 
And be eternized for some wondrous cure ; 
Summum bonum medicinas sanitas ; 
The end of physic is our bodies' health. 



208 



Why. Faustus, hast thou not attained that end ! 
Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, 
Whereby whole cities have escaped the plague. 
And thousand desperate maladies been cured ? 
Yet thou art still but Faustus and a man. 
Could'st thou make men to live eternally. 
Or, being dead, raise them to life again, 
Then this profession were to be esteemed. 
Physic, farewell ! Where is Justinian ? 
Si una eademque res legatur duobus, 
Alter rem, alter valorem rei. &c 
A petty case of paltry legacies. 
Exhereditari filiura non potest pater nisi, &c. 
Such is the subject of the institute. 
And universal body of the law. 
This study fits a mercenary drudge, 
Who aims at nothing but external trash, 
Too servile and illiberal for me. 
When all is done, divinity is best. 

Jerome's Bible, Faustus : view it well. 
Stipendium peccati mors est : ha ! stipendium, &c. 
The reward of sin is death : that's hard. 
Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis 
Veritas : 

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and there 

is no truth in us. 
Why then belike we must sin. 
And so consequently die. 
Ay, we must die an everlasting death. 
What doctrine call you this ? Che sera, sera : 
"What will be, shall be ; divinity, adieu ! 
These metaphysics of magicians, 
And necromantic books are heavenly ! 
Lines, circles, letters, characters : 
Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. 



209 



Oh ! what a world of profit and delight, 

Of power, of honor, and omnipotence, 

Is promised to the studious artisan ! 

All things that move between the quiet pole, 

Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings 

Are but obeyed in their several provinces ; 

But his dominion that exceeds in this. 

Stretches as far as doth the mind of man: 

A sound magician is a demigod. 

Here tire my brains to get a deity. (Enter Wagner.) 

(Marlovfs Works, vol. ii.) 

The commencement of Lord Byroif s Manfred, if nothing 
more, is clearly traceable to Faust, either Maiiow's or 
Goethe's. His own and Goethe's opinions on this matter 
may be collected from the following extracts, which form 
part of a note to the last edition of Byron's Works, vol. ii. 
p. 71. 

In June, 1820, Lord Byron thus writes to Mr. Murray: 
— i; Enclosed is something will interest you : to wit, the 
opinion of the greatest man in Germany, perhaps in Eu- 
rope, upon one of the great men of your advertisements 
(all famous hands, as Jacob Tonson used to say of his 
ragamuffins), in short, a critique of Goethe's upon Manfred. 
There is the original, an English translation, and an Italian 
one ; — keep them all in your archives, for the opinions 
of such a man as Goethe, whether favorable or not, 
are always interesting, and this more so, as favorable. 
His Eaust I never read, for I don't know German; but 
Matthew Monk Lewis, in 1816- at Coligny, translated 
most of it to me viva voce, and I was naturally much struck 
with it; but it was the Steinbach, and the Jungfrau, and 
something else, much more than Faustus, that made me 
write Manfred. The first scene, however, and that of 
Faustus are very similar.' 5 
16 



210 



The following is a part of the extract from Goethe's 
Kunst und Alterthum, which the above letter enclosed: — 

{; Byron's tragedy. Manfred, was to me a wonderful phe- 
nomenon, and one that closely touched me.* This singu- 
larly intellectual poet has taken my Faustus to himself, 
and extracted from it the strongest nourishment for his 
hypochondriac humor. He has made use of the impelling 
principles in his own way, for his own purposes, so that 
no one of them remains the same: and it is particularly 
on this account, that I cannot enough admire his genius. 
The whole is, in this way. so completely formed anew, 
that it would be an interesting task for the critic to point 
out not only the alterations he has made, but then* degree 
of resemblance with, or dissimilarity to, the original: in 
the course of which I cannot deny that the gloomy heat 
of an unbounded and exuberant despair, becomes at last 
oppressive to us. Yet is the dissatisfaction we feel always 
connected with esteem and admiration." 

Lord Jeffrey, in the Edinburgh Review, thus distinguishes 
Marlow's hero from Manfred : — 

" Faustus is a vulgar sorcerer, tempted to sell his soul to 
the devil for the ordinary price of sensual pleasure, and 
earthly power and glory; and who shrinks and shudders 
in agony when the forfeit comes to be exacted. The 
style, too, of Marlow, though elegant and scholarlike, is 
weak and childish, compared with the depth and force of 
much of Lord Byron: and the disgusting buffoonery of 
low farce, of winch the piece is principally made up, 
place it more in contrast, than in any terms of comparison, 
with that of his noble successor. In the tone and pitch 
of the composition, as well as in the character of the diction 
in the more solemn parts, Manfred reminds us more of 
the Prometheus of iEschylus than of any more modern 
performance." 

* There is a translation of one of Manfred's soliloquies by Goethe, 
in the last complete edition of his Works, vol. iii. p. 207 



211 



The following extracts from Captain Medwin's Conver- 
sations may also be placed here with propriety : — 

" The Germans/' said Byron, " and I believe Goethe 
himself, consider that I have taken great liberties with 
: Faust; 3 All I know of that drama is from a sorry Trench 
translation, from an occasional reading or two into English 
of parts of it by Monk Lewis, when at Diodata, and from 
the Hartz -mountain scene, that Shelley versified from, the 
other day. Nothing I envy him so much, as to be able to 
read that astonishing production in the original. As to 
originality, Goethe has too much sense to pretend that he 
is not under obligations to authors, ancient and modern: 
who is not ? You tell me the plot is almost entirely Cal- 
deron's. The Fete, the Scholar, the argument about the 
Logos, the selling himself to the fiend, and afterwards deny- 
ing his power; his disguise of the plumed cavalier, the 
enchanted mirror, are all from Cyprian. That magico 
prodigioso must be worth reading, and nobody seems to 
know any thing about it but you and Shelley.^ Then 
the vision is not unlike that of Mario w's, in his 'Faustus. 1 
The bed-scene is from ; Cymbeline ; ' the song or sere- 
nade, a translation of Ophelia's, in 4 Hamlet;' and, more 
than all. the prologue is from Job, which is the first drama 
in the world, and perhaps the oldest poem. I had an idea 
of writing a 'Job,' but I found it too sublime. There is no 
poetry to be compared with it." 

- 1 told him that Japhet's soliloquy in £ Heaven and 
Earth." and address to the Mountains of Caucasus, strongly 
resembled Faust's. 

* The trifling analogy that really does exist between the works, 
is mentioned in almost all the Commentaries. As I hold it to be 
quite impossible for Shelley to have said that Goethe's plot is almost 
entirely Calderon's, Captain Medwin had probably been enlarging 
to Byron on what Shelley had incidentally mentioned as coinci- 
dences- To set the question at rest, I have subjoined an abstract 
of Calderon's play in the Appendix, No. 2. 



212 



"I shall have commentators enough, by-and-by," said 
he, "to dissect my thoughts, and find owners for them." — 
(Medwirfs Conversations of Lord Byron, pp. 141, 142.) 

Again : " I have a great curiosity about every tiling re- 
lating to Goethe, and please myself with thinking there is 
some analogy between our characters and writings. So 
much interest do I take in him, that I offered to give £100 
to any person who would translate his ' Memoirs,' for mv 
own reading. Shelley has sometimes explained part of 
them to me. He seems to be very superstitious, and is a 
believer in astrology, — or rather was, for he was very 
young when he wrote the first part of his life. I would 
give the world to read 'Faust,' in the original. I have 
been urging Shelley to translate it, but he said that the 
translator of ' Wallenstein ' was the only person living 
who could venture to attempt it; that he had written to 
Coleridge, but in vain. For a man to translate it he must 
think as he does." 

" How do you explain," said I, " the first line, 

' The sun thunders through the sky % ' " 

i: He speaks of the music of the spheres in Heaven." said 
he, "where, as in Job, the first scene is laid." — (Medwirfs 
Conversations, p. 267.) 

I need hardly say, that Goethe was never guilty of such 
a piece of bombast as that which Captain Medwin has 
fixed upon him. 

Tieck, towards the end of his masterly Introduction to 
Lenz's Works, discountenances the notion that either 
Byron or Scott was under any literary obligations to 
Goethe. This notion, as regards Scott, is in part supported 
by reference to individual characters of passages in his 
works, (as Finella copied from Mignon, or the interview 
between Leicester and Amy, at Cumnor, imitated from 
Egmont) but principally by supposing that the transia- 



213 



tion of Gotz von Berlichingen first inspired him "with a 
taste for that style of writing in which he afterwards so • 
preeminently distinguished himself. ^ Unluckily for this 
theory, it is now well known that he had this taste already :| 
and, even without any direct evidence upon the point, it 
seems more probable that the taste originated the transla- 
tion, than the translation the taste. Scott says, that the 
rhythm and irregular versification of The Lay of the Last 
Minstrel was imitated from Christabel; but were not these 
peculiarities of Christabel imitated from Faust ? 

'•'I was once (says Mr. Coleridge) pressed. — many years 
ago, — to translate the Faust ; and I so far entertained the 
proposal, as to read the work through with great attention, 
and to revive in my mind my own former plan of Michael 
Scott. But then I considered with myself whether the 
time taken up in executing the translation might not more 
worthily be devoted to the composition of a work which, 
even if parallel in some points to the Faust, should be 
truly original in motive and execution, and therefore more 
interesting and valuable than any version which I could 
make; — and. secondly. I debated with myself whether it 
became my moral character to render into English — and 
so far certainly, lend my countenance to language — much 
of which I thought vulgar, licentious, and blasphemous. 
I need not tell you that I never put pen to paper as 
a translator of Faust." — (Coleridge's Table Talk, vol. ii. 
pp. 117, US.) 

18. This it is that almost burns up the heart ivithin me.] — 
" Abel, my brother, I would lament for thee, but that the spirit 
within me is withered and burnt up with extreme agony." 
— C The Wanderings of Cain, a Fragment, by S. T. Coleridge.) 

*' : Mr. Carlyle (Specimens of German Romance, vol. iv. p. 6,^ 
starts this supposition. 

t See the annotated edition of the Waverley Novels, vol. i., General 
Preface, 



214 



19. For this very reason is all joy torn from me.] — • 1 com- 
muned with mine own heart, saying. Lo, I am come to 
great estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they 
that have been before me in Jerusalem : yea, my heart hath 
great experience of wisdom and knowledge. 

" And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know 
madness and folly : I perceived that this also is vexation of 
spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief ; and he that 
increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." — (Eccl. c. i.) 

20. I have therefore devoted myself to magic] — Goethe tells 
us, in his Memoirs, that whilst confined by ill-health, he and 
Miss von Klettenberg read through several books on 
alchymy; e.g. Welling' s Opus Mago-Caballisticum, The- 
ophrastus Paracelsus, Basilius Valentinus, Helmont, Starkey, 
and the Aurea Catena HomerL* The study of these 
writers subsequently induced Goethe to put up a small chy- 
mical apparatus, of which he says : " now were certain ingre- 
dients of the Macrocosmus and Microcosmus dealt with after 
a strange fashion." In Ins Farbenlehre, also, he enters upon 
an animated defence of natural magic. It is clear from 
many passages in his Memoirs, that the reflections on the 
insufficiency of knowledge which he has here put into the 
mouth of Faust, were his own a t one period, though he sub- 
sequently attained to abetter estimate of life. For instance : 
— " The remarkable puppet-show fable of Faust found many 
an answering echo in my breast. I too had ranged through 
the whole round of knowledge, and was early enough led to 
see its vanity." 

21. Nostradamus.] — The following account of this worthy 
is given in the Conversations-Lexicon : — ' ; Nostradamus, 
properly Michel Notre Dame, born in 1503, at St. Remy in 
Provence, of a family of Jewish origin, studied medicine. 

*Doring (Life of Goethe, p. 72) mentions the circumstance and 
connects it with Faust. 



215 



applied himself somewhat to quackery, and fell at last into 
the favorite malady of his age, astrology. The prophecies 
which, from his seclusion at Salon, he made known in 
rhymed quatrains under the title of ' Centimes of the World,' 
excited great notice by their style and then obscurity. 
Henry the Second, King of France, sent for the author and 
rewarded him royally. When, subsequently, this monarch 
was wounded in a tournament, and lost his life, men believed 
that the prophecy of this event was to be found in the 35th 
quatrain of the First Centuiy : — 

: Le lion jeune le vieux surniontera, 
En camps bellique par singulier duel, 
Dans cage d'or les yeux lui crevera, 
Deux plaies une, puis mourn mort cruelle.' 

The most distinguished persons of his time visited him at 
Salon. Charles the Ninth appointed him his physician. 
There were not wanting people, however, who made light 
of his prophecies. So late as 1781, they were prohibited by 
the Papal Court, because the downfall of Papacy was an- 
nounced in them. He died at Salon in 1565." — (Conversa- 
tions-Lexicon, tit. Nostradamus.) 

22. Macrocosm, and Spirit of the Earth or Microcosm.] — 
Dr. Himichs says: — "The Macrocosm signifies Nature, as 
such, and is opposed to Microcosm, as man." — p. 59. But I 
incline to think Macrocosm means the Universe, and the 
Spirit of Earth, the Earth generally. Thus Falk, in ac- 
counting for Faust's weakness in the presence of the latter, 
says, " The mighty and multiform universality of the earth 
itself — that focus of all phenomena, which at the same 
time contains within itself, sea, mountain, storm, earth- 
quake, tiger, lion, lamb, Homer, Phidias, Raphael, Newton, 
Mozart, and Apelles — whom, appear when and where it 
might, would it not strike with trembling, fear, and awe ? " 



216 

— p. 247. The Ganzen (I am here adopting the gloss of a 
friend) is the Omneity of the metaphysicians, and Eins in 
clem Andern wirkt unci lebt, is The Immanence of All in each of 
Plato. 

But the best commentary on the whole of the passage in 
which these words occur, is to be found in the first chapter 
of Herder's Ideen, who (according to Talk) received many 
of his notions from Goethe. The analogy of the following 
passage is sufficiently marked; — " When, therefore, I open 
the great book of Heaven, and see before me this measure- 
less palace, which alone, and every where, the Godhead only 
has power to fill, I conclude, as undistractedly as I can. 
from the whole to the particular, from the particular to the 
whole." — {Ideen. b. i. c. 1.) 

The Spirits' chaunt probably suggested Shelley's — 

" Nature's vast frame — the iccb of human things, 
Birth and the grave I " 

In Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays (vol. v.) is "A Moral 
Mask," entitled ' : Microcosm," by Thomas Xabbs, in which 
Nature, Earth, Eire, AVater. &c &c, figure as dramatis 
persona?. 

" According to Paracelsus," says Mr. Heraucl, ' : the ma- 
crocosm is the great world, and man is the microcosm, or 
a little world — a kind of epitome of the great. Oswald 
Crollius, ' physician to the most illustrious Prince Christian 
Anhaltin,' in his admonitory preface to Paracelsus's Three 
Books of Philosophy, delivers himself right learnedly on 
both worlds, macros and micros." 

23. Up, acolyte !] — I have been called on for an author- 
ity for using this word in the above sense : — 

" You are doubtless an acolyte in the noble and joyous 
science of minstrelsy and music." — (Anne of Geierstein, yo\- 
ii. p. 238.) 



217 



24. All ringing harmoniously through the All] — 
' ; And what if all of animated nature 

Be but organic harps diversely framed, 
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps. 
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, 
At once the Soul of each, and God of all." 

Coleridge. 

25. A cold shuddering, $*c] — 

" Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my 
bones to shake. 

" Then a spirit passed before my face : the hair of ray 
flesh stood up." — (The Book of Job, ch. iv.) 

26. Art thou he ?] — 

" Heluctant mortal, 
Is this the Magian who would so pervade 
The world invisible, and make himself 
Almost our eqm#? " — (Manfred, Act 3, Sc. 4.) 

27. Enter Wagner.] — The traditional Faust had a 
disciple or pupil named Wagner or Wagenar, who figures 
in all the dramas or histories founded on the fable. He is 
thus described in Cayet's Translation of Wiclman : — " Le 
Docteur Fauste avoit un jeune serviteur qu'il avoit eleve 
quand il etudioit a Wittenberg, que vit toutes les illusions 
de son maitre Fauste, toutes ses magies et tout son art dia- 
bolique. II etoit un mauvais garcon, coureur ei debauche 
du commencement qu'il vint demeurer a Wittenberg: il 
mendoit, et personne ne le vouloit prendre a cause de sa 
mauvaise nature ; le garcon se nommoit Christofle Wagner, 
et fut des-lors serviteur du Dr. Fauste : il se tint tres bien 
avec ltd, en sorte que le Dr. Fauste Tappeloit son fils : il 
alloit ou il vouloit, quoiqu'il allat tout boitant et de travers." 
A book, entitled "Christoph. Wagner's Magic Arts and Life 



218 



of Dr. Faust,'' was published at Berlin, in 1714. assuming 
to be by the veritable attendant of the philosopher. 

Dr. Hinrichs has a strange theory about this character. 
In his opinion, Faust represents Philosophy, and Wagner. 
Empiricism ; Philosophy being Germany, and Empiricism 
_ all the rest of the world. 

It is also worthy of remark that one of Goethe's early 
friends was called Wagner. He signalized himself by 
stealing from Faust (which was communicated to him in 
confidence previously to publication) the tragic portion 
relating to Margaret, and making it the subject of a trag- 
edy, called the Infanticide. Goethe expresses great indig- 
nation at the treachery. — (Memoirs. B. 14.) 

28. But it is elocution, frc] — Wagner^a man of learning, 
was probably alluding to the well-known aphorism of 
Demosthenes. Yortrag comes near the Greek Ynoxgiaig 
which includes not action merely, bu^all that relates to the 
delivery of a speech. 

29. In which ye crisp the shreds of humanity.] — The phrase 
hiitzel hrauseln is one about which great variety of opinion 
exists, but the two highest authorities substantially agree : — 

Vos discours qui brillent d ? un si faux eclat, dans lequel 
vous etalez les omemens les plus factices de Fesprit hu- 
main, &e. Krduseln, rendre crepu^friser. Schnitzel, ce sont 
des decoupures de papier.* En les tordant en different 
sens on pent en faire des omemens, rneme des fleiu's, mais 
ccs fleurs nont aucune fraicheur. Le poete les compare 
done avec les omemens d ? une rhethorique affectee. Une 
des beautes de ce passage e'est la smgularite de la rime 

*The word Papier- Schnitzel is used in this sense in Wiihelm 
Meister. See Goethe's Works. Stuttgart and Tubingen edition, vol. 



219 



krdusein et sduseln. laquelle a son torn- aura amene les ex- 
pressions un peu bizarres du second vers." — M. de Schkgd 
— private letter.) 

•' Your fine speeches, in which yon ruffle up man's poor- 
est shreds (in which you repeat the most miserable trifles in 
candyed language.) are comfortless.*' &c. — (Dr. Jacob 
Grimm — private letter.) The analogy between this passage 
and the si vis me flere. <$*c. of Horace, will suggest itself to 
every one. 

30. 3fy friend, tJie past ages are to us a book with seven 
seals, frc.] — This speech also is one of considerable difficulty. 
Good critics are not wanting who contend that der Herren 
signer Geist means the spirit of certain great persons or 
lords of the earth exercising a wide -spread influence on 
their times, and that eine Haupt-und Staats-Action means a 
grand political intrigue. But I have it on indisputable 
authority, that Haupt-und Staats-Action was the name given 
to a description of drania formerly well-known in Germany. 
Dr. Grimm's note upon this passage is: E i n Kehricht- 
Fass, &c. a dust-vat (dirt-basket) and a lumber-room, and 
at best a historico-pragmatical play, with excellent moral 
maxims, as they are fit for a puppet-show/' M. de Sehlegel 
says : " Haupt-und Staats-Action : C'est le titre qu'on affichait 
pom les dranies destines aux marionnettes. lorsqu'ils 
traitaient des sujets heroiques et liistoriques." 

31. Who dares call the child by its true name?] — "II faut 
avoir une pensee de derriere et juger de tout par la. en 
paiiant cependant comme le people." — (Pascal.) 

- Remark the use which Shakspeare always makes of his 
bold villians. as vehicles for expressing opinions and con- 
jectures of a nature too hazardous for a wise man to put- 
forth discreetly as his own. or from any sustained character.' 9 
— (Coleridge's Table Talk.) 



220 



32. Something foreign, and more foreign, is ever clinging to 

tke noblest conception, $~c] — 

" But must needs confess 

That 't is a thing impossible to frame 
.Conceptions equal to the soul's desires ; 
And the most difficult of tasks to keep 
Heights which the soul is competent to gain. 
— Man is of dust ; ethereal hopes are his, 
Which, when they should sustain themselves aloft. 
Want due consistence, like a pillar of smoke, 
That with majestic energy from earth 
Rises, hut, having reached the thinner air, 
Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen." 

( IT r ordsiuorth } Excursion.) 

33. The glorious feelings which gave us life, Sec] — No one 
who has ever indulged in day-dreaming or felt the bean- 
ideal of fancy crumble away before the ugly real of life — 
no one, in short, who is not a mere troclcne Schleicher like 
Wagner, will require any illustration of this paragraph. 
The same sentiment, very beautifully expressed, will be 
found in Schiller's Poem, Die Ideate, elegantly translated by 
Lord F. Egerton. Goethe, also, observes in his Memoirs : 
" Ordinarily, when our soul-concert is more spiritually at- 
tuned, the harsh grating tones of the world strike in, in the 
most overpowering and boisterous manner, and the con- 
trast which is ever secretly going on, suddenly coming forth, 
only influences the more sensibly on that account." He 
highly commends Wieland for his skill in representing this 
contrast. 

34. Thou, hollow skull, ichai meanest thou by that grin ?] — 
" Death grins ! Go ponder o'er the skeleton ! " — Byron. 

35. To possess what thou hast inherited from thy sires, enjoy 



221 



it.] — The inscription on an old tomb-stone may serve to 
illustrate the meaning of this passage : — 

What I have, I have : what I spent. I had : what 1 left. 
I lost ?? 

3G. As when the moonlight breathes.] — 
How sweet the moonlight sleeps npon that bank/' 

Merchant of Venice. 

This line, and Lear's — 

" Pray you, undo this button — thank you, Sir : " 
have been cited by Mr. Leigh Hunt as alone sufficient to 
place Shakspeare in the first rank of poetry. 

37. The gorgeous ness of the many artfully -wrought images, 
frc] — I remember seeing a beautiful silver goblet of the 
kind — i. e. one contrived for the trial of a guest's powers 
of breath in drinking — at Berne in Switzerland, for sale. 
a 1 as, second-hand, in an old shop. It was so contrived, that 
the wine flowed down a channel into the main reservoir, 
and in its course turned a mill, on the sweeps of which the 
drinker's eye would be directed, if in then* natural position, 
during the pull (zug.y — (Note by a friend.) I need to do no 
more than name the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine. 

38. The full-toned bell sounded so fraught with mystic 
meaning^ — " The question (as to the concordat) was argued 
one evening, at great length, on the terrace of the garden at 
Bonaparte's favorite villa of Malmaison. The Chief Con- 
sul avowed himself to be no believer in Christianity. 1 But 
religion,' said he, "is a principle which cannot be eradicated 
from the heart of man. ' TYho made all that ? ' said >7apo- 
leon, looking up to the Heaven, which was clear and starry. 
' But last Sunday evening,' he continued. : 1 was walking 
here alone, when the church-bells of the village of Buel rung at 
sunset. J was strangely moved, so vividly did the image of early 



222 



days come back ivith that sound. If it be thus with me, what 
must it be with others.' ' In reestablishing the church,' he 
added, ' I consult the wishes of the great majority of my 
people.' " — (Life of Napoleon — Family Library, vol. i. p. 248. ) 

39. A longing inconceivably sweet. $r.] — 

• While vet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped 
Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin. 
And star-lit wood, with fearful steps pursuing 
Hopes of high talk with the departed dead.' 1 — 

Shelley — Hymn to Intellectual Beauty* 

Compare the splendid passage in Wordsworth's Tintern 
Abbey, beginning — 
" Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 
I came amongst these lulls" — 

40. Recollection now holds me bad:.] — ' ; There is one 
exquisite passage in ancient poetry which presents us with 
a similar touch of nature. If Goethe had read it, he has 
rather produced an admirable counterpart than an imitation 
of it. It is in Apollonius Rhodius, whose Medea, being in 
like manner bent on self-destruction, is overpowered and 
recalled from her purpose by a sudden rush of kindly re- 
membrances, even while the chest of magic drugs is resting 
on her knees." — (Edinburgh lleview. Ko. 125. p. 41.) 

41. He is in reviving-bliss.] — It is impossible to translate 
W&delusi. The meaning probably is. that our Saviour 
enjoys, hi coming to life again, a happiness nearly equal to 
that of the Creator in creating. 

42. For you is he here!] — With you has been suggested, 
in allusion to St. Chrysostom's prayer, " There am I among 

vou." 



223 



43. Behind, far away, in Turkey.] — The common people 
in Germany are wont to consider themselves as placed 
forward in the world, and speak of certain distant or out- 
landish countries as behind. 

44. The painted vessels.] — 

" The painted vessels glide.'' — Pope. 
The allusion to the war in Turkey, and the other town- 
man's reply, are supposed by one of the commentators to be 
a sneer at the indifference manifested as to the war of 
Grecian independence. This ingenious writer forgot that 
the first part of the poem was written half a century ago. 

45. Saint Andrew's eve, §-c] — " There is a belief that on 
St. Andrew's eve, St. Thomas's eve, Christmas eve, and 
New Year's eve, a maiden may invite and see her future 
lover. A table must be covered for two, but without forks. 
Whatever the lover leaves behind him, on going away, must 
l>e carefully picked up : he then attaches himself to her who 
possesses it, and loves her ardently. But he should never 
be allowed to come to the sight of it again, or he will think 
of the pain he endured on that night by supernatural means, 
and becomes aware of the charm, whereby great unhappi- 
ness is occasioned. A beautiful maiden in Austria once 
sought to see her lover according to the necessary forms, 
whereupon a shoemaker entered with a dagger, threw it to 
her. and immediately disappeared again. She took up the 
dagger and locked it away in a chest. Soon afterwards 
came the shoemaker and sought her in marriage. Some 
years after their* marriage, she went one Sunday after ves- 
pers to her chest to look out something which she wanted 
for her next day's work. As she opened the chest, her 
husband came to her and insisted on looking in : she held 
him back, but he pushed her aside, looked into the chest., 
and saw his lost dagger. He instantly seizes it. and requires 



224 



to know, in a word, how she got it, as he had lost it at a 
peculiar time. In her confusion she is unable to think of an 
excuse, and freely owns that it is the same dagger which he 
had left behind on that night when she required to see him. 
Upon this he grew furious, and exclaimed, with a fearful 
oath : ' Whore ! then thou art the girl, who tortured me so 

- inhumanly that night ! ' And with that he struck the dagger 
right through her heart. 

"The like is related in various places of others. Orally, 
of a huntsman who left his hanger. During her first con- 
finement, the wife sent him to her chest to fetch clean linen, 
forgetting that the charmed instrument was there, which he 
finds and kills her with it." — (Deutsche Sage.n. Herausgegeben 
von den Brudern Grimm. Berlin, 1816, No. 114.) The 

' same work (No. 118) contains a story founded on the su- 
perstition of the magic mirror (alluded to in the next line 
but one), in which absent friends or lovers may be seen. 
Tins superstition, however, is not peculiar to Germany. 

46. River and riculet, $*c.] — To understand Faust's posi- 
tion in this speech, the reader must fancy a town on a river, 
like most of those upon the Rhine, with a sort of suburban 
village on the opposite bank. Falk makes this scene the 
groundwork of a commentary on the advantages of the 
Sabbath ; a fan* specimen of the mode in which most of the 
commentaries on Faust are eked out. 

47. There was a red lion, Sfc] — Mr. T. Griffiths of Ken- 
sington, who once delivered an extremely interesting lecture 
on Alehymical Signs at the Royal Institution, enables me 
to furnish an explanation of this passage, which has gener- 
ally been passed over as (what M. Sainte-Aulaire is pleased 
to term it) galimatias. 

There was a red lion. — This expression implies the red 
stone, red mercury, or cinnabar. 



225 



a bold lover, — This expression alludes to the property 
the above compound possessed (according to the adepts) 
of devouring, swallowing, or ravishing every pure metallic 
nature or body. 

married — This simply implies the conjoining or union 
of two bodies of opposite natures : red and white were sup- 
posed to be male and female. 

to the lily — This term denotes a preparation of antimony, 
called lilium minerale, or lilium Paracelsi ; the white stone, 
or perhaps albmed mercury, sometimes called the "white 
fume," or the "most milk-white swanne." 

in the tepid bath, — This denotes a vessel filled with heated 
water, or a " balneum Maria?," used as a very convenient 
means of elevating the body of an aludel or alembic slowly 
to a gentle heat. 

and then both, with open flame, — This means the direct and 
fierce application of fire to the aludel upon its removal from 
the water-bath, after the marriage had taken place betwixt 
the red and the white." 

tortured — The adepts deemed then compounds sensible 
of pleasure and pain ; the heat of the open fire tortured the 
newly united bodies ; these therefore endeavored to escape, 
or sublime, which is the sense in which the word tortured is 
to be taken. 

from one bridcd chamber — This means the body of the 
aludel, in which they were first placed, and which had been 
heated to such a degree as to cause their sublimation. 

to another. — This signifies the glass head or capital placed 
on the body of the aludel. which received the sublime vapors. 
Many heads were put on in succession, into which the 
vapors successively passed. 

If the young queen, — This implies the supposed royal 
offspring of the red lion and the lily, or its alliance to the 
noble metals — the sublimer products. 

with varied hues, then appeared — During the process, 

17 



226 



various hues appeared on the sublimed compound ; accord- 
ing to the order of their appearance, the perfection or com- 
pletion of the great work was judged of. Purple and ruby 
were most esteemed, for, being royal colors, they were good 
omens. 

in the glass — This means the glass head or capital of the 
aludel, as before noticed. 

— this ivas the medicine. — The term medicine was used to 
express both the elixir to heal human bodies, and that to 
transmute the bodies of metals into the purest gold and 
silver. 

The passage, divested of alchymical obscurity, would read 
thus : — 

" There was red mercury, a powerfully acting body, 
united with the tincture of antimony, at a gentle heat of the 
water-bath. Then being exposed to the heat of the open 
fire in an aludel, a sublimate filled its heads in succession, 
which, if it appeared with various hues, was the desired 
medicine." 

In his note to me, Mr. Griffiths adds : — " All the terms it 
contains may be found in alchymical works ; it is a very 
good specimen of mystical writing." 

48. Every height on Jire.] — 

<; Cover a hundred leagues and seem 
To set the hills on fire." — Wordsworth. 

" The western wave was all a-flame. 
The day was well-nigh done ; 
Almost upon the western wave 

Bested the broad bright sun." — Coleridge. 

Many readers may be pleased with the opportunity of com- 
paring the emotions produced by sunrise in Wordsworth 
with those produced by sunset in Goethe. 



227 



{; What soul was his, when, from the naked top 
Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun 
Rise up, and bathe the world in light ! He looked — 
Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth 
And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay- 
In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touched. 
And in their silent faces did he read 
Unutterable love. Sound needed none, 
r\or any voice of joy ; his spirit drank 
The spectacle : sensation, soul, and form 
All melted into him ; they swallowed up 
His animal being : in them did he live. 
And by them did he live : they were his life. 
In such access of mind, in such high hour 
Of visitation from the living God. 
Thought was not : in enjoyment it expired. 
K o thanks he breathed, he preferred no request t 
Eapt into still communion, that transcends 
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, 
His mind was a thanksgiving to the Power 
That made him ; it was blessedness and love ! M 

Excursion , B. I. 

49. The silver brook flowing into golden streams] — This 
may allude to the gradual gilding of the waters, as the sun- 
beams come to play upon them, or to another natural phe- 
nomenon, which I will explain by an anecdote. In the 
summer of 1831, it was my good fortune to pass through 
the beautiful valley of Ahrenberg, a valley which wants but 
a Moore to make an Ovoca of it.^ "Whilst we were chang- 
ing horses. I walked with a German student to a rising 
ground to get a better view of the sceneiy. The setting sun 
was shining in such a manner, that the beams massed them- 



* It lies on the road between Elterfeldt and Casseb 



228 



selves on a broad part of the stream, and fell transversely 
over a tributary brook, thus giving a rich golden glow to 
the river and the appearance of a white silvery line to the 
rivulet. We had hardly gained the height, when my fellow- 
traveller exclaimed : — 

"Den Silberbach in goldne Strome fliessen.*' 

50. The day before me and the night behind.] — This fine 
expression occurs in a very old and popular tale of witch- 
craft mentioned at some length by Toss. Mr. Coleridge 
has something like it in The Homeric Hexameter described 
and exemplified. 

" Strangely it bears us along in swelling and limitless bil- 
lows, 

Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the 
ocean." 

The vidian Elegiac Metre described and exemplified is a 
literal translation from Schiller. 

51. Alas! no bodily iving, $*c] — 

• ; Oft when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings, 
In mind to mount up to the purer sky, 
It down is weighed with thought of earthly things, 
And clogged with burden of mortality/' 

Spenser's Sonnets. 

52. The realms of an exedted ancestry.] — This alludes to a 
supposed divine origin of the soul or spirit of man. or to — 
"For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart 
and to be with Christ, which is better." — Phil. 1 . An anony- 
mous commentator quotes the following lines apropos of 
the main sentiment in this speech : — 



229 



<: Und was die Menschen meinen, 
Das ist mir einerlei, 
Mochte raich mir selbst yereinen 
Allein wir sind zu zwei ; 

" Und im lebend'gen Treiben 
Sind wir ein Hier und Dort, 
Das eine liebt zu bleiben 
Das andre mochte fort." 

53. Invoice not the ivell-known troop, which diffuses itself, 
streaming, through the atmosphere, — " The spirits of the 
aire will mix themselves with thunder and lightning, and so 
infest the clyme where they raise any tempest, that sou- 
dainely great mortality shall ensue to the inhabitants." — 
(Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication, 1592: cited in Steeven's 
Shakspeare.) "The air is not so full of flies in summer, 
as it is at all times of invisible devils ; this Paracelsus stifly 
maintains." — (Burton, Anat. part i.) 

54. A line of fire follows upon his track.] — In his work on 
Colours already alluded to, Goethe gives the following ex- 
planation of tin's phenomenon : — " A dark object, the mo- 
ment it withdraws itself, imposes on the eye the necessity of 
seeing the same form bright. Between jest and earnest, I 
shall quote a passage from Eaust which is applicable here. 
(Then follows the passage.) This had been written some- 
time. — from poetical intuition and in half consciousness, — 
when, as it was growing twilight, a black poodle ran by my 
window in the street, and drew a clear, shining appearance 
after him, — the undefined image of his passing form re- 
maining in the eye. Such phenomena occasion the more 
pleasing surprise, as they present themselves most vividly 
and beautifully, precisely when we suffer our eyes to wan- 
der unconsciously. There is no one to whom such counter- 



230 



feit images have not often appeared, but they are allowed to 
pass unnoticed ; yet I hare known persons who teased them- 
selves on this account, and believed it to be a symptom of 
the diseased state of their eyes, whereupon the explanation 
which I had it in my power to give inspired them with the 
highest satisfaction. He who is instructed as to the real 
nature of it, remarks the phenomenon more frequently, 
because the reflection immediately suggests itself. Schiller 
wished many a time that this theory had never been com- 
municated to him, because he was every where catching 
glimpses of that the necessity for which was known to him." 
The phenomenon is now a recognized and familiar one. 
See Sir David Brewster s Letters on Natural Magic, p. 20. 

In a note to the following lines in the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel, there is a strange story of a fiend appearing in 
the shape of a black dog:- — 

c; For he was speechless, ghastly, wan. 
Like him of whom the story ran. 
He spoke the spectre-hound in Man/' — Canto 6. 

According to the tradition, Faust was constantly attend- 
ed by an evil spirit in the shape of a black dog. This four- 
footed follower has a place in most of the old pictures, those 
in Auerbaclrs cellar not excepted. 

55. Even a wise man may become attached to a dog when he 
is well brought up.] — "A bonnie terrier that, sir: and a fell 
chield at the vermin. I warrant him — that is, if he's been 
weel entered, for it a' lies in that." i; Really, sir." said Brown, 
"his education has been somewhat neglected, and his chief 
property is being a pleasant companion." 

" Ay, sir, that 's a pity, begging your pardon, it 's a great 
pity that— -beast or body, education should aye be minded. 5 ' 
■ — (Guy Mannering.) 



231 



56. We are accustomed to see men deride what they do 
not understand.] — " It has often and with truth been said 
that unbelief is an inverted superstition, and our age suf- 
fers greatly by it, A noble deed is attributed to selfish- 
ness, an heroic action to vanity, an undeniable poetic pro- 
duction to a state of delirium : nay, what is still Stranger, 
every tiling of the highest excellence that comes forth, 
every thing most worthy of remark that occurs, is, so long 
as it is barely possible, denied."— ( Goethe, Farbenlehre.) 

"Pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of 
music on different characters, holds equally true of genius ; 
as many as are not delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, 
irritated. The beholder either recognizes it as a projected 
form of his own being, that moves before him with a glory 
round its head, or recoils from it as a spectre." — (Coleridge's 
Aids to Reflection, p. 220.J) 

57. We long for revelation ichich nowhere burns, <JtcJ — It is 
clear from Goethe's Memoirs, and many other parts of his 
works, that he is here describing the workings of his own 
mind in youth; that, when his sphit was tormented by 
doubts, he constantly referred to the Bible for consolation, 
and found it there. It also appears that he occasionally 
struggled to penetrate below the surface in somewhat the same 
manner as Faust " So far as the main sense was concern- 
ed, I held by Luther s edition; in particulars, I referred 
occasionally to Schmidt's verbal translations, and sought to 
make my little Hebrew as useful as I could." It is a singu- 
lar fact that, next to the Bible, the book which Goethe was 
fondest of. and which confessedly exercised the greatest in- 
fluence on his mind, was Spinosa. So constantly, indeed, 
was he studying this writer, that Herder on one occasion is 
said to have exclaimed to him, Why you literally never 
read any Latin book but Spinosa ! " 

In allusion to Paust's attempt to translate the Aoyog, the 
German comm entators are filled to overflowing with contro- 



232 



versial divinity; while the French translator. M. Sainte- 
Aulaire, omits the whole passage as an unmeaning play of 
words. 

In one of Lessing's plans for a drama to be founded on 
Faust, Faust was to be represented studying Aristotle 
(Ueber Goethe's Faust, frc* 82). In Calderons El Magico 
Prodigioso, Cyprian is represented studying Pliny. 

58. Salamander, Undine, Sylph Kobold.] — I shall illus- 
trate Faust's conjuration by an extract from a very singular 
work. Entretiens sur les Sciences secretes du Comte de Gabalis. 
by M. de Villars. in which Salamanders. Undines. Sylphs, 
and Kobolds (alias Gnomes) are described: — 

" When you shall be enrolled among the children of the 
philosophers, and your eyes fortified by the use of the holy 
elixir, you will discover that the elements are inhabited by 
very perfect creatures, of the knowledge of whom the sin of 
Adam deprived his unfortunate posterity. The immense 
space between earth and sky has other inhabitants than 
birds and flies; the ocean other guests than whales and 
sprats : the earth was not made for moles alone, nor is the 
desolating flame itself a desert. 

" The air is full of beings of human form, proud in ap- 
pearance, but docile in reality, great lovers of science, offi- 
cious toward sages, intolerant toward fools. Their wives 
and daughters are masculine Amazonian beauties " 

' : { How ! you do not mean to say that spirits many ! ' 

" ' Be not alarmed, my son, about such trifles ; believe 
what I say to be solid and true, and the faithful epitome of 
cabalistic science, which it will only depend on yourself on 
day to verify by your own eyes. Know, then, that seas and 
rivers are inhabited as well as the air; and that ascended 
sages have given the name of lindanes or Nymphs to this 
floating population. They engender few males ; women 
overflow. Then beauty is extreme ; the daughters of men 
are incomparably inferior. 



233 



' ; ' The earth is filled down to its very centre with Gnomes, 
a people of small stature, the wardens of treasures, mines, 
and precious stones. They are ingenious, friendly to man, 
and easy to command. They furnish the children of sages 
with all the money they Want, and ask as the reward of 
their service only the honor of being commanded. Their 
women are small, very agreeable, and magnificent in their 
attire. 

' ; ! As for the Salamanders, who inhabit the fiery region, 
they wait on the sages, but without any eagerness for the 
task : then females are rarely to be seen.' " 

This book probably furnished Pope with machinery for 
his Rape of the Lock, suggested the plot of Idris and Zenide 
to Wieland, and gave De la Motte Ton que a basis for his 
delightful story of Undine. 

59. Mephistophdes conies forward in the dress of a travelling 
scholar.] — That Mephistopheles comes forth as a travelling 
scholar (scholasticus), and therefore as a philosopher, is not 
without significance. Tor, on seeing liim, Taust knows that 
he is approached as a friend, he himself being devoted to 
philosophy ; and even the expression fahrenclcr scholast ex- 
presses the unquiet with which Taust is filled. The wan- 
dering about through the world for example, of Jordanus 
Bruno , &c, — is to be viewed with reference to internal 
restlessness, impelled by which these philosophers wandered 
unceasingly from place to place." — (Dr. Hinrichs's JEsth. 
T o/7. p. 98. Dr. Stieglitz (Sage, p. 64,) furnishes some 
curious particulars as to these scholastici vagantes as they 
were called, from which it would seem that they did not fill 
a very respectable station in society ; and it is no compli- 
ment to Giordano Bruno (a man of distinguished merit) to 
be put forth as an example of the character. 

60. Flggod.] i. e. Beelzebub, whose name is partly com- 
pounded of a Hebrew word signifying fig. 



i 



234 



61. I am a part of the part which in the beginning was all.] — 
And the earth was without form and void ; and darkness 

was upon the faee of the deep. And the Spirit of God 
moved upon the face of the waters. 

" And God said, Let there be light : and there was light. 

"And God saw the light, that it was good: and God 
divided the light from the darkness." — (Gen. ch. i.) 

" Granted, that day, proceeding from the original source 
of light, deserves all honor, because it invigorates, quickens, 
gladdens — still it does not follow that darkness must be 
addressed and shunned as the evil principle, because it 
makes us uneasy, and lulls us to sleep ; we rather see in 
such an effect the characteristics of sensuous beings eon- 
trolled by phenomena." — C Goethe.) 

62. That which is opposed to nothing.] — Dr Schubart cau- 
tions us against supposing that under the term nichts a com- 
plete void is intended, as it means merely the original state 
of things under the reign of Chaos. 

63. From air, water, earth, $*c] — "In the air, in the 
water, in the marshes, in the sand, — genera and species 
multiplied, and I believe that they will continue to multiply 
in the same proportion with the course of discovery." — 
Herder, Ideen zur Philosophie, fyc., b. 2, c. 4. 

64. The Pentagram.] — The Pentagram, Pentalpha. or 
Drudenfuss, was a pentagonal figure, like the following : — 



— supposed to possess the same sort of power which used 
popularly to be attributed to the horseshoe amongst us. 




235 



Those who wish for more information on this subject may 
refer to Schol. in Aristoph. Nub. 599, and Lucian's Dialogue 
— De lapsu inter salutandum — in the Amsterdam quarto 
edition of 1743, vol. i. p. 729, 730, in notis. The Pentalpha 
is also mentioned in Hobhouse's Historical Illustrations of 
the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold, p. 334. 

In one of a series of engravings by a Dutch artist of the 
beginning of the seventeenth century (Yan Sichem, by 
name), Faust is represented standing within two intersecting 
circles, upon two intersecting squares, conjuring Mephisto- 
pheles, who is just appearing in Iris true shape. 

65. A compact, a binding one. may be made with you gentle- 
men.} — "'These are fine promises (replied the student) ; 
but you gentlemen devils are accused of not being religious 
observers of what you promise to men.' 'It is a groundless 
charge,' replied Asmodeus ; ' some of my brethren indeed 
make no scruple of breaking their word, but I am a slave to 
mine." — (The Devil upon Two Sticks, chap. 1.) 

66. Tell me something worth telling] — It is a matter of 
doubt whether gute Mahr zu sagen does not mean to tell one's 
fortune. 

67. I am too old for mere play, too young to be without a 
wish.] — 

" Too old for youth, — too young at thirty-five, 

To herd with boys or hoard with good threescore, 
I wonder people should be left alive, 
But since they are, that epoch is a bore." — 

Don Juan, Canto 12. 

68. What can the icorlcl afford me? — u Thou shalt re- 
nounce ! " — " Thou shalt renounce I " — ;i Our physical as well 
as social life, manners, customs, worldly wisdom, philoso- 
phy, religion, all exclaim to us, " That we shall renounce." 
— (Dichtung unci Wahrheit. part ii. book 17.) 



236 



69. Since a sweet familiar tone, ^r.] — 
" My eyes are dim -with childish tears. 

My heart is idly stirred ; 
For the same sound is in my ears 

Which in those days I heard." — Wordsworth. 

70. That highest grace of love.] — Meaning, probably, k 

don d'amoureux merci. or the last favor. 

71. And what am I to do for you in return ?] — The actual 
or traditional compact was to the following effect : — 

Puis le D. Fauste re^oit son sang sur une tuile, et y met 
des charbons tout chauds, et ecrit comme s' ensuit ciapres ; 

c; ; Jean Fauste, Docteur. reconnois de ma propre main 
manifestement pour une chose ratifiee, et ce en yertu de. 
cet ecrit : qu'apres que je me suis mis a speeuler les ele- 
mens. et apres les dons qui m'ont ete distribuez et departis 
de lahaut : lesquels n'o.nt point trouve d'habitude dans mon 
entendement. Et de ce que je n'ai peu etre enseigne 
autrement des homines, lors je me suis presentement 
adonne a un Esprit, qui s appelle Mephistoplnles. qui est 
valet du prince infernal en Orient, par paction entre lui et 
moi. qu'il m'adresseroit et m'apprendroit, comme il m'etoit 
predestine', qui aussi reciproquement m'a promis de m'etre 
sujet en toutes choses. Partant et a Topposite, je lui ai 
promis et lui eertihe, que did a ^ingt-quatre ans de la date 
de ces presentes, vivant jusques-la completement, comme 
il nrenseignera en son art et science, et en ses inventions 
me maintiendra. gouvernera, conduh-a, et me fera tout bieu. 
avec toutes choses neeessaires a mon corps, a mon ame. a 
ma chair, a mon sang, et a ma sante : que je suis et serai 
sien a jamais. Partant, je renonce a tout ce qui est pour la 
vie du maitre celeste et de tous les hommes, et que je sois 
en tout sien. Pour plus grande certitude, et plus grande 
confirmation, j'ai ecrit la presente promesse de ma propre 



237 



main, et l'ai sousecrit tie mon propre sang que je me suis 
tire expressement pour ee faire, de mon sens et de mon 
jugement, de ma pensee et volonte, et Tai arrete, scelle et 
testine. &c." — (Cayefs Widman. part i.) 

In Marlow's Faustus the instrument is formally set out. 

72. But if thou hast food. §-c] — This passage has caused 
a good deal of puzzling, though neither Falk nor Sehubart 
seems to be aware of any difficulty : 

I know thy rotten gifts, says Faust. Which of thy fine 
goods of the earth will'st thou offer me ? How could the 
like of thee ever be capable of measuring the unquiet of 
man's breast. Hast thou food to serve up which never 
satisfies % Or canst thou only show trees which daily 
bloom anew and bud again ? I loathe tins foliage of yes- 
terday, this tale, which, ever the same, is told in the morn- 
ing, and in the evening dies away again — 

Zeig mil' die Frucht die fault eh' man sie bricht 
Und Baume die sich taglieh neu begriinen." — 

(Falk, p. 283.) 

"This (Mephistopheles' promise) appears to Faust but 
mockery. What can a devil give a man to satisfy him, 
when he is not capable of giving it to himself ? The gifts 
of a devil, he says, are but delusion, and melt away in the 
same manner as his quicksilver-like gold : thus he can only 
bestow fruits which would not rot before the plucking, but 
no ever-budding tree sprouts forth beneath his skill and 
fostering.'' — Sehubart, 198. 

Xone of the editions that I have ever seen make the 
hast du an interrogatory, as Falk seems to understand it. 
There are authorities, however, for construing it — Though 
thou hast, &e. It is also contended that — 

" Doch hast du Speise die nicht sattigt, hast 
Du rothes Geld, &c." 



238 



is to be construed affirmatively : u However, thou hast food 
winch never satisfies," &c. ; — and that the zeig mir, frc. is 
ironical, and tantamount to saying : c; This is all thou canst 
show me." But on this construction I do not see how the 
inversion of the second hast du is to be justified, whilst the 
answer of Mephistopheles clearly implies that the zeig mir. 
#c. was a demand on the part of Faust. The most proba- 
ble supposition is, that Faust's meaning was pretty nearly 
the same as in the subsequent speech, in which he expresses 
a wish to enjoy all that is parcelled out amongst mankind, 
pain and pleasure, success and dissappointment, indifferent- 
ly. Taking this wish into consideration, we may well sup- 
pose him saying : — ' : You can give nothing of any real value 
in the eyes of a man like me ; but if you have the common 
perishiible enjoyments of humanity to bestow, let me have 
them." 

73. At the doctor 's feast.] — Alluding to the inauguration- 
feast given on the taking of a degree. 

74. I am not a hairs breadth higher, fyc] — ;< "Winch of 
you by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature." — 
Matth. vi. 27. 

75. As all the French translators have mistaken the word 
intended. I shall follow Gibbon's example, and give it in a 

learned language. The German H is Og/eig, and 

not, as the French translators suppose, Uvyrj, The point, 
however, is doubtful. 

76. And am a proper man.] — 

i: As proper a man as any in Venice." — Shakspeare. 

77. Whose overstrained striving o'erleaps. — 



239 



" I "have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent, but only . 
Vaulting Ambition, which o'erleaps itself 
And falls on the other." — Macbeth. 

78. A Student enters] — This scene is a satire on the 
modes of instruction pursued in German Universities, and 
has been much admired. But the effect is in a great meas- 
ure produced by the happy application of pedantic phrases 
and college slang, which are no more capable of being rel- 
ished in England, than such terms as wooden-spoon, little-go. 
cramming, plucking, in Germany. A distinguished scholar 
has the following allusion to this scene and the three other 
scenes which have been thought to resemble it in tone: 
— " To the great and overwhelming tragic powers of 
Goethe, Aristophanes, of course, can make no pretension: 
but in their preference of the arbitrary comic to the comic 
of manners, the two writers come very close together ; and 
both writers should have lived, as Madame de Stael ex- 
presses it, when there was an intellectual chaos, similar to 
the material chaos. Had Aristophanes written in modern 
times, it is, perhaps, not impertinent to suggest, that the 
Auerbach's Keller in Leipzig, the Hexenkiiche, the Walpur- 
gisnacht, and perhaps the quizzing scene with the young 
student just fresh from his university, are precisely the sort 
of scenes which would have fallen from his pen." — 
Mitchell's Translation of Aristophanes, Preface, p. xxvii. 

It is evident from many passages in his Memoirs, that 
Goethe's early impressions of university pursuits were 
pretty nearly what he has put into the mouth of Mephis- 
topheles ; nor, if we are to believe Palk, did his opinions 
change materially in after-life : — 

" Our scientific men are rather too fond of details. They 
count out to us the whole consistency of the earth in separ- 
ate lots, and are so happy as to have a different name for 



240 



every lot. That is argil (Thonerde) ; that is quartz (KeM- 
erde) ; that is this, and this is that. But what am I the 
better if I am ever so perfect in all these names ? When I 
hear them I always think of the old lines in Eaust — 

" Encheiresin naturce nennt's die Chemie 
Bohrt sich selber Esel und weiss nicht wie ! " 

" What am I the better for these lots 1 what for their 
names % I want to know what it is that impels every sev- 
eral portion of the universe to seek out some other portion, 
— either to rule or to obey it, — and qualifies some for the 
one part and some for the other, according to a law innate 
in them all, and operating like a voluntary choice. But 
this is precisely the point upon which the most perfect and 
universal silence prevails." 

" Every thing in science," said he, at another time, with 
the same turn of thought, "is become too much divided 
into compartments. In our professors' chairs the several 
provinces (Flicker) are violently and arbitrarily severed, 
and alloted into half-yearly courses of lectures, according to 
fixed plans. The number of real discoveries is small, espe- 
cially when one views them consecutively through a few 
centuries. Most of what these people are so busy about, 
is mere repetition of what has been said by this or that 
celebrated predecessor. Such a tiling as independent origi- 
nal knowledge is hardly thought of. Young men are driven 
in flocks into lecture-rooms, and are crammed, for want of 
any real nutriment, with quotations and words. The in- 
sight which is wanting to the teacher, the learner is to get 
for himself as he may. No great wisdom or acuteness is 
necessary to perceive that this is an entirely mistaken path." 
— (Mrs. Austins Characteristics of Goethe.) 

It is worthy of note that Burton (Anat. part i. sect. 2, 
subsec. 7,) remarks on the several sciences in somewhat the 
same spirit as Goethe. 



241 



79. Spanish boots.] — The Spanish boot was an instrument 
of torture, like the Scottish boot mentioned in Old Mortality 
(vol. ii. p. 406). 

80. Then many a day will be spent in teaching you, $*c] — 
"In logic it struck me as strange that I was so to pull to 
pieces, dismember, and, as it were, destroy those very 
operations of the mind which I had gone through with the 
greatest ease from my youth, in order to perceive the proper 
use of them. ; ' — (Goethe's Memoirs.) 

" And all a rhetorician's rules, 
Teach nothing but to name his tools." — Hudibras. 

81 . He who wishes to know and describe any thing living, frc] — 

" Like following life in creatures we dissect, 
We lose it in the moment we detect." — Pope. 

" It was, generally speaking, the prevailing tendency of 
the time which preceded our own, — a tendency displayed 
also in physical science, to consider what is possessed of 
life as a mere accumulation of dead parts, to separate what 
exists only in connection and cannot be otherwise conceiv- 
ed, instead of penetrating to the central point and viewing 
all the parts as so many irradiations from it." — (SchlegePs 
Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, vol. ii. p. 127.) 

82. Five lectures every day.] — Five is the number of 
Courses of Lectures a young and eager student ordinarily 
attends at the outset. 

83. As if tlie Holy Ghost were dictating to you.] — It is 
or was the custom in Germany for the professors to read 
slowly enough for their pupils to follow them with the pen. 
This was called dictating. 

84. I cannot reconcile myself to jurisprudence.] — Here again 
Goethe is repeating his own sentiments. He was originally 

18 



242 



destined by his father for the law, but it was only with the 
greatest reluctance that he could be brought to qualify him- 
self for the necessary examination at Strasburg, where 
such examinations were comparatively light. He says, that 
he had no turn for any thing positive. — (Memoirs, book ix.) 
I presume it is hardly necessary to add, that the exclama- 
tion, ' : Woe to thee that thou art a grandson," alludes to the 
artificial and complicated systems which people coming 
late into the world are pretty sure to find entailed upon 
them — as a lawyer, fond of my profession, I must be ex- 
cused for adding — unavoidably. The law that is born 
with us, means, I suppose, what in common parlance is 
called the law of nature. It may assist future translators, 
not versed in German jurisprudence, to be told, that Gesetz. 
in strictness, means enactment, and Recht : law, or a rule 
of law, generally. Gesetz, and Rechte, therefore, are both 
included under the term laws. 

85. The spirit of medicine.] — It appears that Goethe 
associated a good deal with medical students at Stras- 
burg, and took considerable interest in the studies usually 
followed in connection with medicine. 

"XTn cours professe a la meme faculte (Medicine, at 
Wiirtzburg), par M. Hensler porte un titre trop piquant 
pour que nous ne croyions pas devoir le reproduire. H so 
propose de traiter de la science et de la vie Universitaire en 
general, et plus particulierement de la medecine de la 
methode la plus favorable a suivre pom* Tetudier. d'apres le 
Faust de Goethe." — (From, an article in the Revue Encyeh- 
jjedique, by M. Lagarmitte.) There is a profound Latin 
work on Theology by a gentleman named Valzer. in which 
the immediately preceding passage in theology is raised 
into as much importance as ever M. Hensler can raise the 
remarks on Medicine. 

86. We have but to spread out the mantle] — - This was the 
mode of travelling afforded by Asmodeus to Don Cleofas . 



243 



87. AuerbacKs cellar at Leipzig.] -=* Afcefbafcli's cellar is a 
place of public entertainment of the same class and char- 
acter as the Cider Cellar in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden. 
I supped there during my last visit to Germany, and took 
some pains to ascertain the traditions connected with it. 
which the waiter seemed to have a particular pleasure in 
communicating. He assured me that there was not the 
shadow of a doubt as to my being seated in the very vault 
in which both Faust and Goethe had caroused : and pro- 
ducing an old copy of Widman, he avowed himself ready 
to make oath that it had been in the cellar as a sort of heir- 
loom, for 300 years at the least. It was really a very cu- 
rious copy, but only bore the date of MDCXCV. The 
principal curiosities of the vault are two very old paintings, 
shaped like the segment of a circle, painted, it is supposed, 
to commemorate Faust's presence and achievements there. 
The one represents him at the table drinking to the sound 
of music, with a party of students ; the other represents 
him in the act of passing out at the door upon a cask, whilst 
the spectators are holding up their hands in astonishment. 
The first-mentioned bears a Latin inscription, which has 
proved a puzzler to the philologists:^ — 

" Vive, Bibe, Obgregare, Memor 
Fauste hujus et hujus 
Pamge. Aderat claudo ruee 
Asterat ample Gradu. — 1525." . 

A distinguished scholar, Dr. Maginn, proposes to read it 
thus : — 

" Vive, Bibe, Obgregare, Memor 
Fausti hujus et hujus 
Pama3. Aderat clauda hrec, 
Ast erat ampla Gradu. — 1525." 

* See the Leipziger Tageblatt for 1833. Nos. 22, 23 ? 25; and Slieg-- 
litz's Sage vom Doctor Famt. 



244 

Over the other are inscribed the lines following : — 

" Doctor Faust zu dieser Frist 
Aus Auerbach's Keller geritten ist, 
Auf einem Fass mit Wein geschwind, 
Welches gesehen viel Mutterkind. 
Solches durch seine subtile Kraft hat gethan, 
Und des Teufel's Lohn empfangen da von. — 1525.'' 

It has been made a doubt whether this date (1525) refers 
to the time at which the pictures were painted, or to that at 
which the adventures took place. The following are the 
best traditional accounts of the magical exploits in the 
text : — 

" At the city of Prague is a publican's house, known by 
the sign of the Anchor, where the Doctor one day called as 
he was upon a tour. Seating himself among the travellers, 
in a short time he thus accosted them — ' Gentlemen, would 
you like to partake of all kinds of foreign wines in the 
world ? ' The whole party, with one accord, cried out, 
' Yes, yes !' ' Then will you first like to taste the French, 
Spanish, Ehenish, Malaga, or any other kind ? ' continued 
he, ' whichever you most approve.' 

" Upon this one of the guests exclaimed :— 'Doctor Faust- 
us ! whatever wine you please to furnish, Doctor, we shall 
find some means of disposing of it.' Whereupon he 
begged them to provide him with plenty of bottles and 
glasses, and he would supply the rest. This being done, 
he bored several holes in the table, and placing a funnel in 
each, he held the bottles under it, and decanted as much 
wine as they would contain. As he laid them down one 
after another,, the delighted guests began to laugh heartily, 
and heartily did they regale themselves." — (Roscoe's German 
Novelists r .Yol. L. p. 377.) The other adventure, in which the 



245 

guests of Faust seize each other's noses mistaking them for 
grapes, is also told by Mr. Roscoe. The old French version 
of Widman runs thus : — 

' ; Le Docteur Fauste avoit, en un certain lieu, invite des 
homines principaux pour les traiter, sans qu'il eut apprete 
aucune chose. Quand done ils furent venus, ils virent bien 
la table couverte, mais la cuisine etoit encore froide. H se 
faisoit aussi des noces, le meme son, d'un riche et honnete 
bourgeois, et avoient ete tons les domestiques de la maison 
cmpechez, pour bien et honorablement traiter les gens qui y 
etoient invitez. Ce que le Docteur Fauste aiant appris, 
commanda a son Esprit que de ces noces il lui apportat un 
service de vivres tout appretez, soit poissons ou autres, 
qivincontinent il les enlevat de la pour traiter ses hotes. 
Soudain il y eut en la maison, ou Ton faisoit les noces, un 
grand vent par les cheminees, fenetres et portes, qui eteignit 
toutes les chandelles. Apres que le vent fut cesse, et les 
chandelles derechef allumez, et qu'ils eurent vu d'ou le tu- 
multe avoit ete, ils trouverent, qu'il manquoit a un mets une 
piece de roti, a un autre une poule, a un autre une oye, et 
que dans la chaudiere il manquoit aussi de grands poissons. 
Lors furent Fauste et ses invitez pourvus de vivres, mais le 
vin manquoit : toutefois non pas long-temps, car Mephosto- 
philes fut fort bien au voyage de Florence dans les caves de 
Fougres, dont il en apporta quantite; mais apres qu'ils 
eurent mange, ils desiroient (qui est ce pom quoi ils etoient 
principalement venus.) qu'il leur fit pour plaisir quelque 
tour d'enchantemens. Lors il leur fit venir sur la table une 
vigne avec ses grappes de saison, dont un chacun en prit sa 
part. H commanda puis apres de prendre un couteau, et le 
mettre a la racine, comme s'ils l'eussent voulu couper. Nean- 
moins, ils n'en purent pas venir a bont : puis apres, il se'n 
alia hors des etuves, et ne tarda gueres sans revenir ; lors ils 
s'arreterent tous et se timent Tun Fautre par le nez, et un 
couteau dessus. Quand done puis apres ils voulurent, ils 



246 



purent couper les grappes. Cela leur fut ainsi mis aucunc- 
ment, mais ils eurent bien vonln qnil les eut fait venir 
toivtes meures." — (Part iii. ch. 33.) 

The adventure on the cask is also recorded in tliis history. 

83. Soar vp. Madam Nightingale, give my sweetheart ten 
'thousand greetings for me.] — The following is the son? 
which Goethe probably had in his mind : — 

u PRATT XACHTIGALL. 

••Xaehtigal. ich hor dich singen 
Dar Herz mucht mir im Leib zerspringen. 
Komme docli nod sag mir bald. 
Wie ich mich verhalten soil. 

: - Xaehtigal. ich seh dich laufen 
An dem Bachlein thust dn saufen, 
Du tunkst dein klein Sehnablein ein 
Meinst es war der beste AYein. 

c: Xaehtigal. wo ist gnt wolmen. 
Aivf den Linden, in den Kronen. 
Bei der schori Fran Xaehtigal, 
Griiss jnein Schatzehen tausendmaL^ 

I take this song from the collection of Alte Deutsche Lie- 
der, entitled Des Knaben Wunderhorn. compiled by MM. von 
Amhn and Brentano. The plan was probably suggested 
by Dr. Percy's Pelics : a book which (translated and imi- 
tated by Burger. Herder, and others) has exercised at least 
as great an influence on German literature as on onr own. 
(See some interesting remarks on this subject in the last 
edition of Wordsworth's WorJcs. vol. i. p. 329.) 



247 



89. Leipsic is the place, frc.~\ — It appears from his Me- 
moirs, that when Goethe commenced his college studies at 
Leipzig, a great affectation of politeness prevailed amongst 
the students. 

90. I dare say you are lately from Rippach? Did you sup 
with Mr. Hans before you left ?] — Rippach is a village near 
Leipzig, and to ask for Hans von Rippach, an entirely fic- 
titious personage, was an old joke amongst the students. 
The ready reply of Mephistopheles. indicating no surprise, 
shows Siehel and Altmayer that he is up to it. Hans is 
the German Jack, as Hans der Riesentodter. Jack the Giant- 
killer. 

91. Mephistopheles sings.] — A particular favorite at the 
court of Weimar is said to he alluded to. " Bertuch, the 
father (says Talk), who was treasurer to the Duke, used in 
after times to speak with great glee of a singular head in 
the accounts which he had to submit in those days. It 
consisted almost entirely of breeches, waistcoats, shoes, and 
stockings for Geiman literati, who were wandering within 
the gates of Weimar, slenderly provided with those articles." 

92. Witches* Kitchen.] — The best commentaiy on this 
scene is to be found in Retzsch's Outlines. The monkeys 
are there represented as something between the monkey 
and the baboon ; but he himself told me that Meerkatze is 
the common little long-tailed monkey. The term is thus 
used in a German translation of Lear. <; Eine unvergleich- 
liche Ausflucht fur einen Hurenj'ager. seinen Meerkatzen- 
Trieb den Sternen zur Last zu legem" — Act i. sc. 2, in 
Edmund's Speech on Planetary Influences.) Madame de 
Stael considers it to mean something between a monkey 
and a cat. 



248 



The following passage may save the reader a good deal 
of profitless puzzling: — "For thirty years they (the Ger- 
mans) have been sorely vexed and tormented in spirit by 
the broomstick on the Blocksberg and the cat's dialogue in 
the Witches' kitchen, which occur in Faust, and all the 
interpreting and allegorizing of this dramatic-humoristic 
.extravaganza have never thoroughly prospered. Really, 
people should leara when they are young to make and take 
a joke, and to throw away scraps as scraps." — (Falk.) 

93. At the Feast, $-c] — Falk observes, in allusion to the 
text of these three lines, that Faust and Mcphistopheles are 
greeted in a tone, which, through the dipthong au, bears a 
strong affinity to the language of monkeys. 

94. Coarse beggars' 1 broth.] — " The breiten Bettel-Suppen 
have an ironical reference to the coarse superstitions which 
extend with a thick palpable shade amongst all nations 
throughout the whole history of the world." — (Fall:.) 

95. Take the brush here, <$*c] — Retzsch represents Mcphis- 
topheles as holding a light skreen or fan in his hand. 

96. Oh! be so good as to glue the cr&um, frc.] — "A wish 
which, profoundly considered, sounds so politically, that 
one would swear the monkey-spirits had read the history 
of both the old Romish and the new empire, chapter by 
chapter, with all its dethroning^ and assassinations, from 
the beginning of the first to the end of the last war." — 
(Falk) 

97. Thou atomy.] — 

" Thou atomy, thou ! " — Henry IV. Part II. act v. sc. 4. 

98. The northern phantom is no more to be seen. Where do 
you now see horns, tail, and claws ?] — The old German cate- 
chisms, from Luther's time downwards, were generally 



249 



adorned -with, a frontispiece, representing the Devil, with 
all the above-mentioned appendages. This mode of inocu- 
lating youth with correct theological notions has been 
gradually laid aside in most countries. 

99. That is the witches' 1 one-times-one.] — i. e. multiplication- 
table. 

100. For a downright contradiction, $rc] — Dr. Hhirichs' 
note on this passage is : — " A system of philosophy which, 
like that of Hegel, begins with such a contradiction. — for 
instance, Das Seyn ist Nichts. has the advantage that it 
frightens away those who have no call for it, both wise men 
and fools." If this be an advantage, there can be little 
doubt that Hegel possesses it. I once heard a singular 
illustration of his obscurity. He had proposed a toast at a 
public dinner, which it was the duty of the toastmaster to 
give out. This functionary made several efforts, and had 
more than one consultation with the philosopher, but was 
at length obliged to give up the undertaking in despair, and 
declared aloud that he did not understand a word of it. I 
heard this story told at a supper party in Germany, by an 
eminent Professor. 

101. Margaret.] — Goethe's first love was called Marga- 
ret. She was a girl of an inferior rank in life, apprenticed- 
during the love affair, to a milliner. He was about fifteen 
at the commencement of the acquaintance, and she two or 
three years older. Previously to the introduction, he was 
in the habit of following her to church, but never ventured 
on accosting her. — (See the Dichtung and Wahrheit, b. 5.) 
It is a pity she had not been called Elizabeth, that we 
might use the English diminutive Bessy. I shall hardly be 
censured for not calling her Peggy, which is the correct 
translation of Gretchen. 



250 



102. All sorts of nonsense.] — :; Ces pendardes-la. avec leur 
pommade, ont, je pense. envie de me miner. Je ne vois 
partout que blancs d'ceufs, lait virginal, et mille autres 
brimborions, que je ne connois point." — Les Precieuses Ridi- 
cules, Act i. sc. 4. 

103. Besides, he icould not else Jiaue been so impudent] — 
The lower classes in England have also an awkward habit 
of associating a more than ordinary degree of shamelessness 
or profligacy with gentility. The gamekeeper of a lady of 
rank, in Hampshire once came to tell her that a gentleman 

• was sporting over her Lest preserves, and refused to listen 
to remonstrances. U A gentleman," said her ladyship, how 
do you know him to be a gentleman ? " ' : Because,' 3 was 
the reply, ' : he keeps fourteen horses and another man's 
wife." 

104. Am I breathing an enchanted atmosphere?] — 

" 'T is her breathing, that 
Perfumes the chamber thus." — 

Cijmbeline, Act ii. sc. 2. 

There is some analogy between tins scene and La Xou- 
velle Heloise. vol. i. lett. 54, though Faust's feelings in his 
mistress's chamber are very different from St. Preux's. 

105. It feels so close, so sultry here.] — 

" Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot ; 
Some airy devil hovers in the sky, 
And pours down mischief." — 

King John, Act iii. sc. 2. 

106. There axis a king in Thule.] — Many of the songs in 
Faust, this amongst others, were not originally written for 
it. Goethe mentions in his Memoirs that he sung this song 
with considerable applause in a social meeting. 



251 



107. 7 luould change rings icith you myself.] — In some 
countries of Germany the bridegroom, instead of placing 
the ring on the finger of the bride, gives one to her. and 
receives one in return. 

108. Two witnesses.] — Alluding to the rule of the civil 
law, which forms the basis of all the German systems. — 
Urdus responsio testis omnino non audiatur. — (Cod. 4, 20, 9.) 

109. I tremble all over.] — The best translation of Mich 
uberlduffs would be by an expression which I once heard a 
young lady employ, though I am not aware that there is 
classical authority for it : — "I felt a sort of all-overishness.'' 

1 10. From the wall-like rocks, out of the damp underwood"] — 

" How divine, 
The liberty for frail, for mortal man, 
To roam at large among unpeopled glens 
And mountainous retirements, only trod 
By devious footsteps : regions consecrate 
To oldest time ! and. reckless of the storm 
That keeps the raven quiet in her nest, 
Be as a presence or a motion — one 
Among the many there : and. while the mists 
Flying, and rainy vapors, call cut shapes 
And phantoms from the craigs and solid earth, 
As fast as a musician scatters sounds 
Out of an instrument : and while the streams" — 

The Excursion. 

- And he, with many feelings, many thoughts, 
Made up a meditative joy, and found 
Religious meanings in the forms of nature.'' — 

Coleridge. Sybylline Leaves, p. 65. 



252 



111. Like a snow-flushed rivulet.] — "Like ajock in the 
mid-channel of a river swoln by a sudden rain-flush from 
the mountains, &c." — Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, p. 79. 

112. Were la bird, #c.] — The song alluded to is the 
following : — 

t; "VVenn ich ein Voglein war, 
Und auch zwei Fliigeln hatt, 
Flog ieh zu dir ; 
Weils aber nicht kann seyn, 
Bleib icli all hier. 

* ; Bin ich gleicli weit von dir, 
Bin ich doch im Schlaf bei dir, 
Und red mit dir ; 
"\Ycnn ich erwachen thu, 
Bin ich allein. 

" Es vergeht keine Stand in der Xacht, 
Da mein Herze nicht envacht, 
Und an dicli gedenkt, 
Dass du mir tausendmal 
Dcin Herze geschenkr." — 

(Herder's Volkslieder, b i. p. G7 — 
Wunderhorn, part i. p. 231 ) 

113. One while fairly outwept.] — 

" as with no stain 
She faded like a cloud that has outwept its rain." — 

Shelley, Adonais. 

••Lo pianto stesso D pianger non lascia." 

t Dante. Inf. canto 33. 

1 14. The twin-pair, which feed among roses.] — " Thy two 
breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed 
among the lilies." — C/Sb/?^ of Solomon, ch. iv. v. 5.) Je ne 



253 

vous conseille pas de traduire cela litteraleuaent. On jeterait 
les hauts cris. C'est a la responsabilite du poete. L'esprit 
malin senible vouloir insinuer que les saints menie. et les 
sages, tels que Solomon, netaient pas insensibles aux at- 
traits de la volupte." — (M. de Schlegel — private letter.) 

115. And all her homely cares embraced within that little 
world.'] — 

" Flies from her home, the bumble sphere 
Of all her joys and sorrows here ; 
Her father's house of mountain-stone, 
And by a mountain vine o'ergrown. 
At such an hour, in such a night, 
So calm, so clear, so heavenly bright, 
Who would have seen, and not confessed 
It looked as all within were blest/' — 

Rogers^ Jacqueline. 

116. Are ice not looking into each others eyes.] — 

" TYlien full of blissful sighs. 

They sat and looked into each others eyes.'- — 

' Latta Eookh. 

117.7 have no name for it.] — ' ; The Persian poet Saadi of 
Schiraz, says, according to Herder: — '"Who knows God. 
is silent.' 5 

" They looked up to the sky. whose floating glow 
Spread like a rosy oceau, vast and bright : 
They gazed upon the glittering sea below,. 
Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight : 
They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low. 
And saw each other's dark eyes darting light 
Into each other.'" — Don Juan, 



254 



Clarehcn: "Lass mich schweigen! lass mich dich halten. 
Lass mich dir in die Augen sehen ; alles darin finden . 
Trost mid Hoffnung, mid Freude und Kummer." — Egmont. 
Act iii. 



" I have asked that dreadful question of the hills 
That look eternal : of the flowing streams 
That lucid flow forever ; of the stars, 
Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit 
Hath trod in glory : all were dumb 5 but now, 
While I thus gaze upon thy living face, 
I feel the love that kindles through its beauty 
Can never wholly perish : we shall meet 
Again, Clemanthe !"* — Ion, Act v. sc. 2. 



118. Name is sound and smoke.] — In most of the edi- 
tions preceding the collected edition of Goethe's Works 
commenced in 1828, it stands: — Nature is sound and 
smoke. 



1-19. The man you have icith you is hateful to me, frc] — 
Margaret's intuitive apprehension of Mephistopheles is 
copied from an incident mentioned in Goethe's Memoirs : 
— " I could scarcely rest till I had introduced my friend 
Merk at Lotta's (the original of Werther's Charlotte), but 
his presence in this circle did me no good; for, like Mephis- 
topheles, go where he will, he will hardly bring a blessing 
with him" Goethe always called this friend " Mephisto- 
pheles Merk" and gives a strange account of the mingled 
goodness and devilislmess of his disposition. The same 
feeling is beautifully described in the following lines by 
Coleridge : — 

£; And yet Sarolta, simple, inexperienced, 
Could see him as he was, and often warned me ! 



255 



Whence learned she this ? 0, she was innocent ! 

And to be innocent is nature's wisdom ! 

The hedge-dove knows the prowlers of the ah*, 

Feared soon as seen, and flutters back to shelter. 

And the young steed recoils upon his haunches, 

The never-yet-seen adder's hiss first heard. 

O. surer than suspicion's hundred eyes 

Is that fine sense, which to the pure in heart, 

By mere oppugnancy of then own goodness, 

Reveals th' approach of evil." — Zapohja. 

Sir Waiter Scott had probably one or both of these pas- 
sages in his mind when he wrote the following : — " The 
innocent Alice, without being able to discover what was 
wrong either in the scenes of unusual luxury with which 
she was surrounded, or in the manners of her hostess, 
which, both from nature and policy, were kind and caress- 
ing, felt nevertheless an instinctive apprehension that all 
was not right, a feeling in the human mind, -allied, perhaps, 
to that sense of danger which animals exhibit when placed 
in the vicinity of the natural enemies of their race, and 
which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air. and 
beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the desert. 
There was a heaviness at her heart which she could not 
dispel, and the few hours which she had already spent at 
Chiffinch's, were like those passed in a prison by one un- 
conscious of the cause or event of his captivity/' — Peveril 
of the Peak, vol. hi. p. 6, last edition. 

120. Full of her faith, frc] — The words : — 

" Der ganz allein 
Ihr selig machend ist, 

have here the same meaning as in Dr. Carove's celebrated 
work Ueber Alleinseligmachende Kirche ; L e. the Catholic 
Church, which commonly arrogates this title to itself. 



256 



121. We will strew cut straw before her door.] — This al- 
ludes to a German custom something analogous to Skim- 
merton-riding in this country. It consists in strewing cut or 
chopped straw before the door of a bride whose virtue is 
suspected, the day before the wedding. The garland (like 
the snood) is a token of virginity, and a ruined maiden is 
said to have lost her garland. 

Bessy's want of charity recalls the well-known lines in 
The Giaour : — 

11 No : gayer insects fluttering by 
Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, 
And lovelier things have mercy shown 
To every failing but their own ; 
And eveiy woe a tear can claim, 
Except an erring sisters shame." 

122. Zwingcr.] — Zwinger is untranslatable, and I find a 
good deal of doubt existing as to the meaning of the term. 

Zwinger (says a learned correspondent) from Zwingen, — 
to subdue, is a name given to castles found in some of the 
free towns, and formerly held by an imperial governor. 
They are often in the middle of the town, and have a pas- 
sage wherein a devotional image with a lamp has occasion- 
ally been placed, not expressly for the sake of devotion, but 
to lighten up a dark passage ; Margaret wishes to be unob- 
served, and prefers this lonely spot to the chapel." This 
account was confirmed to me in conversation by Eetzsch. 
In Ms Outline of the scene, Margaret is represented kneel- 
ing before an image of the Virgin placed in a niche close 
to a church. I add a passage from Mr. Downes' Lettei y s 
from Continental Countries upon this subject : " On our way 
(from Goslar to the Rammelsberg) we visited the Zwinger, 
an old tower of three stories, containing a saloon for mas- 
querades. The walls are so thick as to admit of a small 



257 



side apartment, adjoining one of the windows. A scene in 
Goethe's Faust is entitled Zwinger ; it is perhaps identical 
with this." — Vol. ii. lett. 45. 

123. Mater Dolorosa] — The following lines of Manzoni 
(a great favorite of Goethe), in his hymn to the Virgin, 
might be supposed to have been suggested by this scene : 

" La femminetta nel tuo sen regale 
La sua spregiata lagrima depone, 
E a te, beata, della sua immortale 
Alma gli arTanni espone : 
A te, che i prieghi ascolti e le querele 
Non come suole il mondo, ne degT imi 
E de' grandi il dolor col suo crudele 
Discernimento estimi." 

124. Can that be the treasure rising, <J*c] — This alludes to 
a superstitious belief that the presence of a treasure is indi- 
cated by a blue light or flame, though only, I believe, to the 
initiated. The same allusion occurs in the Intermezzo, 
ante, p. 181 ; and also in a little poem by Goethe, called 
Der Schatzgraber : — 

''• Und ich sah ein Licht von weitem, 
Und es kam gleich einem Sterne." — 

In the Antiquary, too, in the scene between Sir Arthur 
Wardour and D ouster swivel, in the ruins of St. Ruth, it is 
said, "Xo supernatural light burst forth from below, to 
indicate the subterranean treasury." — Vol. i. p. 317. 

125. Liondollars.] — The Lowenthaler is a coin first struck 
by the Bohemian Count Schlick, from the mines of Joa- 
chims-Thai, in Bohemia ; the finest in the years 1518 — 1529, 

19 



256 



under Ludovick, the first king of Hungary and Bohemia. 
The one side represents the fork-taiied Hon. with the in- 
scription — "Ludwig I. D. G. Rex Bohnv' The reverse, 
the full-length image of St. John, with the arms of Sehlick. 

— (Kohlers Muntz-Belustigungen.) 

126. What are you doing here, Catherine?] — This song is 
obviously imitated from Ophelia's. — (Hamlet, Act iv. sc. 5. 

127. Rat-catcher.] — 

v - Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk ? " 

Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. sc. 1 . 

The common people in Germany believe (or believed) 
that rat-catchers, by whistling or piping a peculiar note, 
could compel the rats to follow them wherever they chose. 

— Deutsche Sagen, ISo. 245.) Tins accounts for the appli- 
cation of the term to a serenading seducer. 

128. Out icith your toasting-iron.] — 

'*' Put up thy sword betime, 
Or I ; 11 so maul you and your toasting-iron, 
That you shall think the devil is come from hell." 

King John, Act iv. sc. 3. 

The German word Fledericisch, literally goosewing, is a 
cant term for a sword. 

129. lam perfectly at home with the police ) but should find ii 
hard to clear scores with the criminal cou/is.] — Blutbann is an 
old name for criminal jurisdiction in the general sense. 
The distinction between Polizei-Uebedretungen and Verbre- 
cheri) to which the above passage might otherwise be sup- 



259 



posed to refer, was introduced into the German systems in 
imitation of the French code ; consequently not till long 
after the period at "which this scene was written. — (See 
MittermaieSs Strafverfahren ) pp. 10 and 16.) To make mat- 
ters sure, I referred both Blutbann and Biutschuld to M. 
Mittermaier liimself. 

130. When first shame, &c] 

' : The while some one did chaunt this lovely lay : 

All see, whose fair thing dost fain to see 
The springing flower the image of thy day, 

Ah see the virgin rose, how sweetly she 
Dost first peep forth with bashful modesty, 

The fairer seems, the less ye see her may ; 
Lo. see soon after how more bold and free 

Her bared bosom she doth broad display ; 

Lo, see soon after, how she fades and falls away." 

Spenser. 

131. Evil spirit behind Margaret, .] — 

" I looked to heaven and tried to pray, 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper came, and made 
My heart as dry as dust." 

Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

132. And under thy heart stirs it not quickening now ?] — 

' ; She held within 
A second principle of life, which might 
Have dawned a fair and sinless child of sin." 

Don Juan^ Canto iv. 

It is common in Germany to say, Sie tragi das Pfand der 
Liebe unter ihrem Herzen — u She bears the pledge of love 



260 



under her heart." Thus Schiller, in Die Kindesmorderin, — 
" Kicht das Knablein unter meinem Herzen 2 ; ' Shelley also 
has the same allusion : — 

" Methought I was about to be a mother ; 
Month after month went by, and still I dreamed 
That we should soon be all to one another, 
I and my child ; and still new pulses seemed 
To beat beside my heart, and still I deemed 
There was a babe within ; and when the rain 
Of winter through the rifted cavern streamed, 
Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain, 
I saw that lovely shape, which near my heart had lain."' 
The Revolt of Islam, Canto vii. 

133. I feel as if the organ, <$*c] — There is a passage 
somewhere in Goethe's works (I forgot to note down the 
place) in which he describes the Dies iree as having a simi- 
lar effect upon himself. Mr. TT. Taylor says that Sir W. 
Scott borrowed a hint or two from this scene for The Lay 
of the Last Minstrel. I suppose he alludes to the thirtieth 
Stanza of the last Canto : — 

' : And ever in the office close 
The hymn of intercession rose : 
And far the echoing aisles prolong 
The awful burden of the song — 
Dies iras, Dies ilia, 
Solvet sreclum in favilla — * 
While the pealing organ rung." 

134. May-day Night. The Hartz Mountains. District of 
Schirke and EI end.] — Walpurgis is the name of the female 

* For the remainder of the Dies Irca. see Appendix. No. III. 



261 



saint who converted the Saxons to Christianity. May-day 
Night is dedicated to her. The Hartz is the most northerly 
range of mountains in Germany, and ran to a considerable 
extent; comprising (according to the Conversations-Lexi- 
con) about 1350 square miles, mostly within the district of 
Hanover. The Brocken or Blocksberg is the highest sum- 
mit of the chain, on the top of which all the witches of Ger- 
many hold an annual meeting. Schirke and Elend are 
two villages on or near the Brocken. As these mountains 
are now a favorite resort of tourists, it is useless to add a 
minute description of them, which there is a good guide- 
book to supply. 7 '^ Mr. Downes, also, in his letters from 
Continental Countries, has given a con amore description of 
the localities ; and Heine has supplied some curious partic- 
ulars in the first volume of his Reisebilder. Dr. Schubart 
says, that, just as the Greeks had their Olympus, the Jews 
their Sinai, the Spaniards then Montserrat, the Indians the 
Himelaya mountains, even so have the Germans their 
Blocksberg. In the case of the Blocksberg, however, there 
are assignable causes for the superstitions associated with 
it, in addition to that which the wildness of the mountain 
affords. On the first establishment of Christianity, the 
Druids are said to have taken refuge on it ; and the lights 
and noises attendant on the celebration of their rites were 
mistaken by the surrounding peasantry for sorcery. In one 
of Goethe's minor poems, Die erste Walpurgisnachtj spiritedly 
translated by Dr. Anster, the effects of this belief are vividly 
portrayed. Another cause is to be found in a phenomenon 
thus described by the author of Waverley. " The solitudes 
of the Hartz forest, in Germany, but especially the moun- 
tains called Blocksberg, or rather Brockenburg, are the 

* See Gotschalk's Taschenbuch fur Reisende in den Hartz, and Mr. 
Murray's Handbook, in which every species of useful information is 
communicated. 



262 



chosen scenes for the tales of witches, demons, and appa- 
ritions. The occupation of the inhabitants, who are either 
miners or foresters, is of a kind that renders them peculiarly 
prone to superstition, and the natural phenomena which 
they witness in pursuit of their solitary or subterraneous 
profession, are often set down by them to the interference 
of goblins, or the power of magic. Among the various 
legends current in that wild country, there is a favorite one. 
which supposes the Hartz to be haunted with a kind of 
tutelar demon, in the shape of a wild man, of huge stature, 
his head wreathed with oak-leaves, and his middle cinctured 
with the same, bearing in his hand a pine torn up by the 
roots. It is certain that many profess to have seen such a 
form, traversing, with huge strides, in a line parallel to their 
own course, the opposite ridge of a mountain, when divided 
from it by a narrow glen : and indeed the fact of the appa- 
rition is so generally admitted, that modern skepticism has 
only found refuge by ascribing it to optical deception." — 
The Antiquary, vol. i. p. 249. 

This optical deception admits of a simple explanation : 
' : When the rising sun (and, according to analogy, the case 
will be the same at the setting) throws his rays over the 
Brocken upon the body of a man standing opposite to fine 
light clouds floating around or hovering past him, he needs 
only fix his eye steadily upon them, and in all probability 
he will see the singular spectacle of his own shadow ex- 
tending to the length of five or six hundred feet, at the 
distance of about two miles before him." — (Hibbert on Ap- 
paritions, p. 440. note. Brewster's Letters on Natural Magic, 
Lett. 6.) In Mr. Gillies' tasteful collection of German sto- 
ries, there is a very interesting one, called The First of May ; 
or Walburga's Night. Goethe's little poem, called Die Harz- 
Reise> has no perceptible connection with the Hartz. 



135. Through the stones, through the turf, brook and brooHing 



263 



hurry down.] — Heine's description of the springs on the 
Blocksberg exactly corresponds with the poetical descrip- 
tion : — " Here and there on rushes the water, silver-clear, 
trickles among the stones, and bathes the naked roots and 
fibres. Again, in many places, the water spouts more 
freely from out of rocks and roots, and forms little cascades. 
There is such a strange murmuring and rustling — the 
birds sing broken snatches of languishing songs — the 
trees whisper as with thousands of maidens' tongues ; as 
with thousands of maidens' eyes the rare mountain flowers 
gaze upon us, and stretch out towards us then- singularly 
broad, conically forked leaves," &c. &c. (Rcisebilder, vol. i. 
p. 173.) See also his account of the rise of the Use, p. 223 , 

136. Tu-whit ! — tu- whoo.] — 

" 'T is the middle of night by the castle clock, 
And the owls have awakened the crowing cock. 
Tu-whit ! — tu-whoo ! " Christabd. 

137. And tJie roots, like snakes, frc] — Here again Heine's 
description corresponds : " In consequence of the rocky 
nature of the ground, the roots are in many places unable 
to penetrate it, and wind, snake-like, over the huge blocks 
of granite, which lie scattered every where about, like huge 
play-balls, for the unearthly revellers to throw at each other 
on May-day night." 

138. It scatters itself at once.] — Shelley has translated 
vereinzelt sich — masses itself — probably under the notion 
of making the contrast more complete. But the next line 
— There sparks are glittering near, Sfc. — shows clearly that 
the literal version is the proper one. 



264 



139. How the storm-blast^ frc] — 

" And now the Storm-Blast came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong ; 
He struck with his o'ertaking wings. 
And chased us sonth along." 

The Fame of the Ancient Manner. 

I shall give Adelung's explanation of Windsbraut; 
" Windsbraut, ein in Hochdeutsehen veraltetes Wort, einen 
Sturm zu bezeichnen, welches nach Apost. 27. 14. vor- 
kommt; auch in cler Schweiz und andern Oberdeutschen 
Gegenden iibhch ist," I subjoin the scriptural passage 
referred to : 

" Nicht lang aber damach erhob sich wider ihr Vomeh- 
men eine Windsbraut, die man nennete Nordost." — ( Ger- 
man Bible.) 

" But not long after there arose against it a tempestuous 
wind, called Euroclydon." — (English Bible.) 

140. Sir Urian.] — This is a common name for the 
devil in Germany. Yoland (post) is, I believe, one of the 
names of Beelzebub. 

141. The witch s, the lie-goat s.] — In Aristo- 

phanic language — the witch TzsgdeTou, the he-goat 

142. By Ilsenstein.] — Usenstein is a high granite rock on 
the Brocken, so called from the brook Use, which, according 
to tradition, was originally a princess. Eelsensee (rock- 
lake) is another of the localities. 

143. For, in going to the house of the ivicked one, woman is a 
thousand steps in advance^ — " This princess was so far from 
being influenced by scruples, that she was as wicked as 
woman could be, which is not saying a little, for the sex 



265 

pique themselves on their superiority in every competi- 
tion." — Vaihek. 

144. Make room, sweet people.] — Probably an allusion to 
your most sweet voices, in Coriolanus. 

145. Many a riddle must there be untied.] — Some of the 
German critics express considerable disappointment that 
Goethe did not give these riddles with the devil's solution 
of them. 

146. Now that I ascend the icitch-mountain for the last time.] 
— "And because the contradictions of life and thought 
have reached then hightest pitch, but at the same time 
have found then end and solution, does Mephistopheles 
convince himself that he has ascended the Blocksberg for 
the last time V — Ueber Goethe 's Faust, Leipzig. 

147. There is no dagger here, $*c] — I am inclined to 
think that Goethe must have read Bums' Tam-O'Shanter 
before witting this : — 

" Coffins stood round like open presses, 
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
And by some devilish cantrip slight, 
Each in his cauld hand held a light, — 
By which heroic Tarn was able 
To note upon the haly table, 
A murderer's banes in gibbit airns ; 
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd banns ; 
A thief, new cuttecl frae a rape, 
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
Five tomahawks wi' bluid red-rusted ; 
Eive scymitars, wi' murder crusted : 
A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 



266 



Whom his ain son o' life bereft, 
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft/' 

Goethe's poem of Der Todtentanz, however, clearly pre- 
ceded Tam-CPShanter. 

148. Lilith.] — I have received several suggestions as to 
Lilith. The following passage, (for which I have to thank 
Dr. Rosen.) extracted from Gesenius's Commentary on 
Isaiah, (Leipz. 1821, 8vo. vol. i. p. 916,) is the fullest and 
most satisfactory : — 

"Lilith, £pyr|j (nocturna), is. in the popular belief of the 
Hebrews, a female spectre in the shape of a finely-dressed 
woman, which, in particular, lies in wait for and kills chil- 
dren, like the Lamias and Striges amongst the Romans. — 
(See Horace, Art. Poet. 340; Ovid, Fast. vi. 123.) This 
is the Rabbinical account, and the superstition appears old, 
as it is to be found in the same form, and with little varia- 
tion, amongst all other people. More recently they them- 
selves have brought it into a kind of system, and turned 
Lilith into a wife of Adam's, on whom he begot demons, 
and who still has power to lie with men and kill children 
who are not protected by amulets, with which the Jews of 
a still later period supply themselves as a protection against 
her. — (S. Buxtorf, Lexicon. Talmudic. p. 1140; Eisen- 
menger's Entdecktes Judenthum, vol. ii. p. 413, et seq.) n 
See also Brown's Jewish Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 273. 

Burton tells us : " The Talmudists say that Adam had a 
wife called Lilis before he married Eve, and of her he 
begat nothing but devils." — (Anat. of Melancholy. Pad 1, 
Sect. 2. Subsec. 2.) 

At the end of a learned etymological commentary on the 
word Lullaby in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, I find the 
following mention of Lilith, quoted as a MS. note on Skin- 



267 



ner: ; - Christian quondam a Judads edocti, Damioneni esse 
quandani maleficam, nomine Lilith. quae infantes recenter 
natos necare aut saltern supponere eonsuevit, atque adeo 
matrices infantibus domiitantibus cantilare solitas Lilla, obi. 
abi ! unde nostrum Lullaby/' 

Herder, in his Dichtungen aus dec Yocicelt ) represents 
Adam as not marrying Eve until after Lilis had rejected 
him on account of his earthly extraction. 

Apropos of Lilith's hair. I think it is Miss Letitia Haw- 
kins who calls Eve an overgrown baby, with nothing to 
recommend her. but her submission and her fine hair. 

149. Prochtojyhantasmist.] — The person intended is now 
generally understood to be Xicolai of Berlin, a writer who 
once enjoyed a considerable reputation in Germany, and 
through, the medium of the AMgemeine Deutsche BiUiotheh. 
a periodical work established by him about 1765 in cooper- 
ation with Lessing and Mendelsohn, exercised for nearly 
twenty years a widely-spread influence upon German liter- 
ature. The severity of his criticisms, written in a cold 
prosaic spirit, involved liim in many disputes : amongst 
others, with Wieland, Eiehte. Herder, Lavater, and Goethe. 
He had also given offence to Goethe, by publishing a 
parody on The Sufferings of TVerther, entitled i: The Joys 
of TTerter," in which AYerther is made to shoot himself 
with a pistol loaded with chicken's blood, and recovers and 
lives happily. Goethe judiciously earned on the joke by 
writing a continuation, in which Werther, though alive, is 
represented as blinded by the blood, and bewailing his ill 
fortune in not being able to see the beauties of Charlotte. 
Goethe says that Ms reply, though only circulated in manu- 
script, deprived Nicolai of all literary consideration. He 
speaks of him as a man of talent, but incapable of allow- 
ing merit in any thing which went the least beyond his own 
contracted notions of excellence : — 



2G8 



" Was schiert mich der Berliner Bann 
Geschm'ackler-Pfaffenwesen ! 
Und wer mich nicht verstehen kann 
Der lerne besser lesen." — Goethe. 

" To the very last," says Mr. Carlyle, " Nicolai never 
could persuade himself that there was any thing in heaven 
or earth that was not dreamt of in his philosophy. He was 
animated with a fierce zeal against Jesuits ; in this, most 
people thought Mm partly right; hut when he wrote 
against Kant's philosophy, without comprehending it. and 
judged of poetry as he judged of Brunswick mum, by its 
utility, many people thought him wrong. A man of such 
spiritual habitudes is now by the Germans called a Philister. 
Philistine. Nicolai earned for himself the painful preemi- 
nence of being Erz-Philistine, Arch-Philistine." — (German 
Romance, vol. iv. p. 15.) 

In 1791, some causes which violently agitated [his mind 
produced such an effect on his nerves, that for several 
weeks he appeared to himself continually surrounded with 
phantoms, whom he distinctly knew, however, to be mere 
creations of his imagination. An account of his malady, 
drawn up by the sufferer himself, is quoted by Dr. Hibbert 
(Theory of Apparitions) and may be seen in Nicholson's 
Philosophical Journal, vol. vi. p. 161. Bleeding by leeches 
was one of the remedies resorted to ; this explains the sub- 
sequent allusion to them. He died in 1811. 

One phrase put in the mouth of this character, es spuht in 
Tegel, has sadly puzzled both translators and commenta- 
tors. Tegel is a small place, about eight or ten miles from 
Berlin. In the year 1799, the inhabitants of Berlin, who 
pride themselves very highly on their enlightenment, were 
fairly taken in by the story of a ghost, said to haunt the 
dwelling of a Mr. Schulz, at Tegel. No less than two 
commissions of distinguished persons set forth to investigate 



269 



the character of the apparition. The first betook them- 
selves to the house, on the 13th of September, 1797, waited 
from eleven at night till one in the morning, heard a noise, 
and saw nothing. The second were more fortunate, for 
one of them rushed with such precipitation towards the 
place from whence the noise proceeded, that the ghost was 
under the necessity of decamping in a hurry, leaving the 
instruments with which he made the noise (very clumsy 
inartificial contrivances) as spolia opima to the conquerors. 
Thus began and ended the Tegel ghost's career, who, how- 
ever, fully rivalled our Cock-lane ghost in celebrity, and 
gave rise to a good deal of controversy. This statement is 
taken from an account published in 1798, in 8vo., with the 
appropriate motto : — " Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridicu- 
lus mus." Dr. Hitzig (to whom I am indebted for it) pro- 
poses the following interpretation : 

" We Berlin folks (enlightened by me Kicolai) are so 
wise (so free from prejudice) and Tegel is haunted notwith- 
standing (we notwithstanding suffer our heads to be turned 
by a ghost story, so stupid as this of Tegel.") 

Shelley and M. Stapfer say Brocktophantasmist. This 
alteration destroys the etymology, which must be IJooj'/tTog, 
the part which (as is evident from the allusion to the 
leeches) is supposed to have a connection with his phan- 
tasies. 

150. A red mouse jumped out of her mouth.] — c: The fol- 
lowing incident occurred at a nobleman's seat, at Thiirin- 
gen about the beginning of the seventeenth century. The 
servants were paring fruit in the room, when a girl, becom- 
ing sleepy, left the others, and laid herself down, apart but 
not far off, on a bank to repose. After she had lain still a 
short time, a little red mouse crept out of her mouth, which 
was open. Most of the people saw it, and showed it to one 
another. The mouse ran hastily to the open window, crept 



270 



through, and remained a short space without. A forward 
waiting-maid, whose curiosity was excited by what she saw. 
spite of the remonstrances of the rest, went up to the inan- 
imate maiden, shook her, and moved her to another place, 
a little further off, and then left her. Shortly afterwards 
the mouse returned, ran to the former familiar spot, where 
it had crept out of the maiden's mouth, ran up and down, 
as if it could not find its way and was at a loss what to do. 
and then disappeared. The maiden, however, was dead, 
and remained dead. The forward waiting-maid repented 
of what she had done in vain. In the same establishment, 
a lad had before then been often tormented by the sorceress 
and could have no peace : this ceased on the maiden's 
death." — (Deutsche Stvjen. Ko. 247.) 

The same work contains a story of two maidens who 
were accustomed to despatch then souls on evil errands in 
the shape of smoke, and a story of a maiden whose soul 
used to leave her in the shape of a cat (Xos. 248, 249) : but 
I find nothing about a grey mouse. 

151. The blood of man thickens at its chill look.] — 

" Her lips were red, her looks were free. 
Her locks were yellow as gold. 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
The Xight-Mair Life-in-Death was she 
"Who thicks man's blood with cold." — 

Coleridge, Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

The term Idol must be understood in the sense of Eidolon. 

152. As merry as in the Prater.] — Alluding to the well- 
known Prater of Vienna. 

153. When 1 find you upon the Blpcksberg.] — To wish a 
man upon the Blocksberg — Ich wunsche den Kerl auf dem 



271 



Blocksberg — is like wishing him to the devil, in English. 
This speech, therefore, has in German the effect of a pun. 

154. The Intermezzo] — It is quite impossible to convey 
to the English reader more than a very faint notion of this 
scene. The effect is produced almost exclusively by satiri- 
cal allusions, quaintly rhymed, to things and persons which 
are not generally known even in Germany itself ; though 
no one who has ever witnessed the delight with which Ger- 
mans belonging to the inner circle of educated society dwell 
upon it, can doubt that it possesses merit of a high order in 
its way. It is impossible to explain all the allusions, with- 
out rambling far beyond the limits of a note. I must, 
therefore, confine myself to such particulars as admit of 
compression. 

The Midsummer Night's Dream and Wieland's Oberon 
have furnished the basis of the first seven or eight stanzas, 
and some of the last. 

Mieding, mentioned in the first couplet, w r as scene-painter 
to the Weimar Theatre. Goethe has immortalized him by 
a little poem on his death : — 

" Wie ! Mieding todt % erschallt bis unter's Dach 
Das hohle Hans, von Echo kehrt ein Ach ! 
Die Arbeit stockt, die Hand wird jedem schwer, 
Der Leim uird halt, die Farbe fliesst mcht mehr" 

There are other lines in the poem, however, wiiich would 
rather lead me to suppose him stage-manager. He is men- 
tioned by Doring (p. 198). 

The Inquisitive Traveller is Nicolai ; and the allusion to 
the stiff man, smelling after Jesuits, is to him. He*had 
written Travels, full of the flattest, stalest, most unwearied 
and weaning denunciations of popery, and all things and 
persons associated in his imagination (if he had an 
i magination ) therewith. 



272 



I have been told that the words put into the mouth of 
the northern artist are intended as a quiz on the style of 
expression affected by the German artists of the day, but I 
rather think they allude to Goethe's own Italian Journey, 
which might be almost said to have revolutionized his mind. 
A distinguished German critic thinks that Eemow is the 
person alluded to. 

The Gods of Greece — Die Gotter Griechenlands — is the 
title of a well-known poem of Schiller's, which somewhat 
scandalized the pious people of his day. Some useful notes 
upon it are contained in Klattowsky's Manual. 

The Purist is said to typify a school of critics who affect- 
ed great zeal for purity of expression, and strict attention to 
costume, upon the stage. 

The Xenien, as is well known, is the name given by 
Goethe and Schiller to verses, mostly satirical or epigram - 
matical, which they published from time to time in co- 
partnership. These formed an important era in German 
literature. c; A war of all the few good heads in the nation, 
with all the many bad ones, (says Mr. Carlyle,) began in 
Schiller's MiisenaJmanach for 1793. The Xenien, (in anoth- 
er place he names the Horen along with them,) a series of 
philosophic epigrams jointly by Schiller and Goethe de- 
scended there unexpectedly, like a flood of ethereal fire, on 
the German literary world ; quickening all that was noble 
into new life, but visiting the ancient empire of dulness with 
astonishment and unknown pangs." The war might have 
been commenced in this manner, but the burden of main- 
taining it (as Mr. Carlyle himself half admits in another 
placed) certainly fell upon the Schlegels and Tieck, to 
whose admirable critical productions the Xenien bears 
about the same relation that the sharp-shooters bear to 
the regular army. 



* German Romance, vol. ii. p. 8. 



273 



The Genius of the Age and The Musaget were the 
names of literary journals edited by Hennings ; who was at 
diiferent times in controversy with the Schlegels, Schiller, 
and Goethe. Hennings is also attacked in the Xenien. 
One of Goethe's minor poems is entitled Die Musageten. 

The extent of the German Parnassus is an old joke. A 
few years since it was computed that there were no less 
than fourteen thousand living authors in Germany. Goethe 
wrote a little poem entitled Deutscher Parnass^ in which he 
spiritedly apostrophizes the invading crowd : 

41 Ach, die Biische sind geknickt! 
Ach, die Blumen sind erstickt ! 
Yon der Sohlen dieser Brut — 
Wer begegnet ihrer Wuth ? " 

The Crane is said to mean Herder, but it is nowhere 
said why. 

To the best of my information, Irrlichter means parvenus : 
and Sternschnuppe a sort of poetical Icarus, who mounts 
like a rocket and comes down like the stick. Most of the 
other allusions refer to well-known classes in society, or to 
certain sects or schools in metaphysical philosophy. 

M. de Schlegel told me that the allusions in the Inter- 
mezzo were not present to his memory, and finding that 
it would cost him some trouble to recover the train, I did 
not press my request for an explanation of them, though 
his veiy interesting letter on Goethe's Triumph der Empftnd- 
samkeit, addressed to M. de Remusat and published in the 
third volume of the Theatre Allemand, was a poweiful temp- 
tation. The first paragraph of tins letter may help to ex- 
plain why it is so very difficult to write notes upon Goethe ; 
— " J'ai vecu quelques annees pres de Goethe (says M. de 
Schlegel) lorsqu'il etait dans la force de l'age et dans la 
maturite de son genie \ j'ai souvent passe des journees en- 
20 



274 



tieres avec lui, et nous avons beaucoup cause sur ses 
ouvrages ; mais il n'aimait guere a donner des explications, 
comme aussi il n'a jamais voulu faire des prefaces/' 

M. Vamliagen von Ense tells me that many more verses 
were originally composed for the Intermezzo, but sup- 
pressed. 

Goldene Hochzeit means the fiftieth anniversary of a 
marriage 5 Silberne Hochzeit, the twenty-fifth. 

155. Sentence-jiassing, unfeeling man.] — 

"O plead 

With famine, or wind-walking pestilence. 
Blind lightning, or the deaf sea, not with man ! 
Cruel, cold, formal man." — Shelley, The Cenci. 

156. To roll before the feet, ^c] — This alludes to a 
prevalent superstition, that evil spirits will sometimes place 
themselves in the path of a foot-passenger, in the shape of 
a dog or other animal, with the view of tripping him up 
and springing upon him when down. Thus Caliban, in 
allusion to the spirits set upon him by Prospero : — 

' ; Some time like apes, that moe and chatter at me, 
And after, bite me : then like hedge-hogs, which 
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way." — 

Tempest^ Act ii. sc. 2. 

157. What are they icorlcing — about the Raven-stone yonder '/] 
— - Retzsch/s outline represents a raised stone mound or 
platform, with a gallows at one end and a gibbet for hang- 
ing in chains at the other. Witches and skeletons are about _ 
upon, and over it, apparently engaged in some unhal- 
lowed rite. Faust is pointing it out to Mephistopheles with 
a look of interrogation, which Mephistopheles answers 
by a grim sneer. The Rabenstein is so called because 
ravens are often seen hovering round it It is hardly 



275 



necessary to add that this vision, as well as that of Marga- 
ret with fettered feet at the end of the scene upon the 
Broeken, are intended as forebodings of her fate. 

158. And her crime icas a good delusion.] — 

AYehe ! — menschlieh hat diess Herz empfunden! 
Und Empfindimg soil mein Richtschwert seyn ! 
AYelr ! vorn Arm des falsehen Mann's umwunden 
Schleif Luisens Tngend ein.'' — Schiller. 

159. My mother ) the ichore, frc] — This song is founded on 
a popular German story, to be found in the Kinder-und 
Haus-Mdrchm of the distinguished brothers Grimm, under 
the title of Van den Machandel-Boom, and in the English 
selection from that work (entitled German Popular Stories) 
under the title of Tlie Juniper Tree. — The wife of a rich 
man, whilst standing under a juniper tree, wishes for a little 
child as white as snow and as red as blood ; and on another 
occasion expresses a wish to be buried under the juniper 
when dead. Soon after, a little boy, as white as snow and 
as red as blood, is born : the mother dies of joy at beholding 
it. and is buried according to her wish. The husband 
marries again, and has a daughter. The second wife, 
becoming jealous of the boy, murders him, and serves him 
up at table for the unconscious father to eat. The father 
finishes the whole dish, and throws the bones under the 
table. The little girl, who is made the innocent assistant 
in her mother's villainy, picks them up, ties them in a silk 
handkerchief, and buries them under the juniper tree. The 
tree begins to move its branches mysteriously, and then a 
kind of cloud rises from it, a fire appears in the cloud, and 
out of the fire comes a beautiful bud, which flies about 
singing the following song : — 

{< Min Moder de mi slacht't. 
Min Vader de mi att. 



276 



Min Swester de Marleenken 

Socht alle mine Beeniken, 

Un bindt sie in een syden Dook, 

Legts unner den Machandelboom ; 

Kywitt ! Kywitt ! ach watt en schon Vagel bin ich ? " 

Tlie literal translation would be — 

My mother who slew me, 

My father who ate me, ' : ' 

My sister Mary Anne 

Gathers all my bones 

And binds them up in a silk handkerchief, 

Lays them under the juniper tree. 

Kywitt! Kywitt! ah what a beautiful bird am I. 

It will be doing an acceptable service to those who love 
to trace poetical analogies, to remind them of Wordsworth's 
exquisite little poem of Ruth : — 

" God help thee, Ruth ! Such pains she had 
That she in half a year was mad, 
And in a prison housed ; 
And there she sung tumultuous songs, 
By recollection of her wrongs, 
To fearful passion roused." 

160. I was fair, too, and that was my undoing] — 
Trauet nicht den Rosen eurer Jugend, 
Trauet, Sch western, Mannerschwiiren nie ! 
Schonheit war die Falle meiner Tugend 
Auf der Richstatt hier verfluch' ich sie ! " 

Schiller. 



Most readers will recollect Eilicaja's sonnet, and the 
beautiful stanzas in Childe Harold, founded on it — 



277 

" Italia ! oh Italia ! thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beauty." 

Canto 4, Stanza 42 43. 

" Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring, 
And Sedley cursed the form that pleased a king." 

Johnson, Vanity of Human Wishes. 

161. Let what is past, be past] — 

" Oh Mutter ! Mutter ! Hin ist Ural 
Verloren ist verloren ! 
Der Tod, der Tod ist mein Gewinn, 
war' ich nie geboren ! " 

Burger, Lenore. 

162. Keep the path up by the brook — over the bridge — into 
tlie wood — to the left where the plank is.] — 

" Half-breathless from the steep hill's edge 
They tracked the footmarks small ; 
And through the broken hawthom-hedge, 
And by the long stone-wall. 

And then an open field they crossed : 
The marks were still the same : 
They tracked them on, nor ever lost ; 
And to the bridge they came. 

They followed from the snowy bank 
Those footmarks, one by one, 
Into the middle of the plank : 
And further there were none ! " 

Wordswoiih, Lucy Gray. 



278 



163. The staff breaks.] — The signal for the executioner 
to do his duty, is given by the breaking of a wand or staff. 

164. The blood-seat.] — " This alludes to the German cus- 
tom of tying the unfortunate female that is to be beheaded 
on a wooden chair. Males on such melancholy occasions 
are kneeling on a little heap of sand." — (Boileaus Remarks. 
p. 19.) 

I am informed that both males and females are tied in 
the same manner. 

165. Ye Holy Hosts, range yourselves round about to guard 
me.] — 

Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
Ye heavenly guards ! " 

Hamlet, Act 3, sc. 4. 

166. She is judged.] — Some difference of opinion prevails 
as to the concluding sentences of this scene. The more 
poetical interpretation is, that Margaret dies after pro- 
nouncing the last words assigned to her ; that the judgment 
of heaven is pronounced upon her as her spirit parts : that 
Mephistopheles announces it in his usual sardonic and de- 
ceitful style ; that the voice from above makes known its real 
purport ; and that the voice from within, dying away, is Mar- 
garet's spirit calling to her lover on its way to heaven, 
whilst her body lies dead upon the stage. This is the only 
mode in which the voice from ivithin, dying away, can be 
accounted for. M. de Schlegel, however, certainly the 
highest living authority on such matters, says : " Sie ist 
gerichtety se rapporte a la sentence de mort prononcee par 
les juges ; les mots suivants, Sie ist gerettet, au salut de son 
anie " It has been contended that Sie ich gerichtet refers 
both to the judgment in heaven and to the judgment upon 



279 



earth. As to the translation of the passage, no doubt can 
well exist, for ridden is literally to judge, and is constantly 
used in the precise sense the above interpretation attributes 
to it ; for instance, Die Lebendigen und die Todten zu ridden, 
to judge the quick and the dead. 

The expressions used in the concluding scene of the old 
puppet drama of Faust may be referred to in support of 
this interpretation. ( See post, Appendix 2.) 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX, NO. I. 



CONTAINING 

AN ABSTRACT 

OF 

THE SECOND PART OF FAUST. 

AND SOME ACCOUNT OF 
THE CIRCUMSTANCES EXDER WHICH IT WAS COMPOSED. 

The heading, or stage direction, of the first scene is — A 
pleasant country — Faust bedded upon flowery turf, tired, 
restless, endeavoring to sleep — Twilight — a circle of spir- 
its hovering round, graceful little forms.'' Ariel opens it 
with a song, accompanied by iEolian harps; the other 
spirits form a chorus, and Faust gives voice to the emo- 
tions which the rising sun (very beautifully described) 
awakens in him. 

The next scene is laid in the emperor's comt — what 
emperor, does not appear. He is seated in full pomp upon 
his throne, surrounded by all his officers of state, to whom 
he condescendingly addresses himself: " I greet my true, 
my loving subjects, congregated from far and near ; I see- 
the sage (meaning the astrologer) at my side, but where 
tanies the fool ? " The fool, it seems, has just been car- 
ried out drunk or in a fit, most probably by the contrivance 



284 



of Mephistopheles, who instantly steps forward in his 
place and proposes a riddle to his majesty. He puts it 
aside with the remark, that riddles are for his council, and 
only (it is to be inferred) simple, unadulterated folly for 
himself. The new fool, however, is regularly installed; 
the emperor opens the conference, and all the high officers 
give their opinions upon the existing state of the realm, 
than which nothing can well be worse. The chancellor 
complains of the neglect of the laws, the commander-in- 
chief of the insubordination of the army, the marshal of the 
household of the waste in the kitchen, and the first lord 
of the treasury expatiates on the empty state of his coffers* 
the grand source of all the other evils. The emperor, 
sorely puzzled, reflects a moment, and then turns to the 
fool, or rather to Mephistopheles, disguised as such: 
" Speak, fool, dost thou too know of no matter of com- 
plaint ? " Mephistopheles replies in the negative, and ex- 
presses his astonishment that any thing should be wanting 
where so much glittering splendor was to be seen. This 
calls forth a murmur from the courtiers, and Mephistophe- 
les is made the subject of a fair share of insinuation and 
abuse ; but he proceeds notwithstanding and developes his 
plan, which is, to begin digging for subterraneous treasures 
immediately; as all such, he observes, belong of right to 
the emperor. Tins plan is generally approved by all but 
the chancellor, who does not think it in exact accordance 
with religion ; and the emperor himself declares his inten- 
tion of laying aside his sword and sceptre, and setting to 
work in his own proper person immediately. The astrolo- 
ger, however, calls on them to mitigate their zeal, and first 
finish the celebration of the approaching carnival. The 
emperor assents, and gives the word for a general rejoicing 
accordingly ; the trumpets sound, and exeunt omnes but Me- 
phistopheles, who concludes the scene with a sneer : " How 
desert and good fortune are linked together, this never oc- 



285 

curs to fools ; if they had the stone of the philosopher, they 
would want the philosopher for the stone." 

The subject of the next scene is a mask got up by Faust 
for the amusement of the emperor, irregular and extravagant 
in the extreme. Gardeners, flower-girls, olive-branches, 
rose-buds, fishermen, bird-catchers, wood-hewers, parasites, 
satirists, the Graces, the Parcse, the Furies, Fear, Hope, 
Prudence, Zoilo-Thersites, Pan, Plutus, Fauns, Gnomes, 
Satyrs, Nymphs, are amongst the things and persons which 
come forward in the course of the entertainment. The 
verses placed in their mouths are often very beautiful, but 
appear to have no reference to a plot. There is also some 
clever general satire. The scene closes, like most of our 
melodrames, with a general blaze, which is also described 
with great spirit by the herald. 

The next scene is in one of the palace pleasure-gardens, 
where the court is found assembled as before, and the em- 
peror is represented thanking Faust for the mask and con- 
gratulating himself on having discovered such a treasure 
of a man. Their converse is suddenly interrupted by the 
entrance of the marshal of the household, the commander- 
in-chief and the lord treasurer, to announce that all their 
distresses have been suddenly removed by the creation of 
an odd sort of paper-money, bills promising payment in 
the emperor's name when the subterranean treasure before 
mentioned shall be dug up. The circulation of this paper 
appears to have produced nearly the same effect in the em- 
peror's dominions as the South Sea scheme in England or 
Law's project in France, which, we presume, it must be in- 
tended to ridicule. The people are represented as miming 
absolutely wild at their fancied accession of wealth, and the 
emperor amuses himself by bestowing portions of it on the 
followers of his court, on condition of then declaring what 
use they intend to make of what they receive. The humor 
thus elicited does not rise beyond common-place. One 



286 



says, that he will lead a merry life upon it ; a second, that he 
will buy chains and rings for his sweetheart ; a third has a 
fancy for good wine ; and a fourth for sausages ; a fifth pro- 
poses to redeem his mortgages, and a sixth to add it to his 
hoard. The fool comes last, and might well have been ex- 
pected to say something sharp, but he simply avows a wish 
to become a land-holder, and yet is complimented by Me- 
phistopheles on his wit. Faust and Mephistopheles arc* 
then represented walking in a dark gallery, whither Faust 
has withdrawn Mephistopheles to procure the means of ex- 
hibiting Helen and Paris before the emperor, to whom lie 
has pledged his word to that effect. Mephistopheles an- 
swers at first evasively : he has nothing (he says) to do with 
the heathen world, they live in a hell of their own ; there is 
one mode, however; — Faust must repair to certain god- 
desses called, par eminence., The Mothers,^ dwelling in the 
deepest recesses of unearthly solitudes, through which he is 
to be guided by a key bestowed for that purpose by Me- 
phistopheles. Faust shudders at the name, but undertakes 
the adventure and sets out. 

The following scene represents the assembling of the 
court 5 Mephistopheles cures a blonde beauty of freckles, 
and a brunette of lameness, and bestows a love-potion on 
a third: after which exploits, we proceed to the grand hall, 
where the emperor and his suite are awaiting the arrival 
of Faust for the promised spectacle to begin. He appears 
at last, emerging as it were from the stage ; he is dressed 
in sacrificial robes, and a tripod accompanies him. By the 
aid of the Mothers, and the application of a charmed key 
which he has with him. he brings first Paris and then Helen 
upon the stage. For a time, all goes on well, and we are 
amused by the remarks of the courtiers, male and female, 

* I have never yet met with any one who could tell me what Die 
Mutter means. 



287 



on the beauty and her lover, when, on Paris' behaving with 
something like rudeness to Helen, Faust gets jealous and 
interferes. An explosion is heard, the spirits ascend in va- 
por, and Eaust, prostrated by the shock, is borne off sense- 
less by Mephistopheles. 

So ends the first act. At the commencement of the se- 
cond, we find Eaust laid on an old-fashioned bed in his old 
study, with Mephistopheles attending him. " He whom 
Helen paralyzes (says the latter) comes not easily to his 
senses again." Erom a conversation between Mephisto- 
pheles and an attendant, it appears that, ever since Eaust's 
disappearance, Wagner has lived on in his house, and has 
now attained to almost as great a reputation as his master. 
At the opening of the scene, he has been long busied in his 
laboratory, endeavoring, like another Erankenstein, to 
discover the principle of life. To make the train of old 
associations complete, the Student, now a Bachelor, enters, 
and thus atFords us an opportunity of seeing how far he 
has profited by Mephistopheles' advice. It seems that he 
is become a convert to Idealism, and he makes a speech in 
which Eichte's system is quizzed. 

After this dialogue we are conducted into Wagner's 
laboratory, who has just succeeded in manufacturing an 
Homunculus, a clever little imp, incarcerated in a bottle, 
bearing a strong resemblance to the Devil upon two Sticks. 
He is introduced apparently to act as a guide to the Classi- 
cal Walpurgis Night ; Mephistopheles, as has been already 
intimated, having no jurisdiction over the heathen world. 
Of this Classical Walpurgis Night itself, which occupies the 
next sixty or seventy pages, it is quite impossible to give 
any thing like a regular description or analysis : though the 
readers of the Eirst Part of Eaust may form some notion 
of it, on being told, that it is formed upon pretty nearly the 
same plan as the wilder part of the scenes upon the Blocks- 
berg, Tvith the difference, that all the characters are classical 



288 



The number of these is prodigious. Besides monsters of 
various sorts, we find Erichtho, the Sphynx, the Sirens, the 
Pigmies, the Nymphs, Chiron, talking Dactyls, Lamise, 
Anaxagoras, Thales, Dryas, Phorkyas, Nereids, Tritons, 
Nereus, Proteus, and many other less familiar names, which 
it would be wearisome to recapitulate, all scattering apo- 
thegms or allusions at random, with (we say it with all due 
humility) very little immediate fitness or point. 

The Helena, which in some sense may be considered a 
part of the Classical Walpurgis Night, follows, and forms 
the third act of the continuation.* 

Helen enters upon the stage (before the palace of Men- 
elaus, at Sparta) accompanied by a chorus of captive Trojan 
women. From her opening speech, it appears that she has 
just landed with her lord, who has sent her on before, and 
is expected to follow immediately. She has been directed 
to prepare all things for a sacrifice, but, on entering the pal- 
ace for this purpose, she encounters an apparition in the 
shape of a gigantic old woman, who. before Helen has well 
done relating what she had seen to the chorus, comes forth 
in propria persona. This is Phorkyas, who begins by up- 
braiding Helen, and gets into a not very edifying squabble 
with her maids. But the main object is to frighten them 
away ; with this view Phorkyas plays on Helen's fears by 
suggesting, that, amidst all the required preparations for 
the sacrifice, nothing had yet transpired as to the intended 
victim, and that the victim was most probably herself. It 
is further intimated that the chorus had nothing very pleas- 
ing to look forward to, and Menelaus' treatment of Deipho- 
bus, whose nose and ears he cropped, is considerately allud- 
ed to in illustration of the Spartan chief's mode of dealing 
with his enemies. The plan succeeds, and the Queen 

* See an Article in the Foreign Review, vol. i. p. 429, by Mr. 
Carlyle, for a full account of the Helena. 



289 



consents to fly to a neighboring country of barbarians, 
described in glowing colors by Phorkyas. Instantly clouds 
veil the scene, which shifts to the inner court of a town, 
surrounded by rich fantastic buildings of the middle ages. 
She is here received by Faust, the lord of the place, who 
appears dragging along one Lynceus, his watchman, in 
chains, for not giving due notice of the beauty's approach. 
Lynceus excuses Irimself in fine flowing verse, and receives 
his pardon as a matter of course. Faust makes good use 
of his time, and is rapidly growing into high favor with 
Helen, when Phorkyas rushes in with the tidings that Me- 
nelaus, with all his army, is at hand. Faust starts up to 
encounter the enemy, but, instead of being turned into a 
battle field, the scene changes into a beautiful Arcadian 
landscape, set round with leafy bowers, amongst which 
Faust and Helen contrive to lose themselves for a time. 
AYhilst they are out of sight, Phorkyas converses with the 
chorus, and amongst other topics describes to them a beau- 
tiful Cupid-like sort of boy, called Euphorion, who directly 
afterwards comes forward with Helen and Faust. This 
youngster, after exhorting by rums all the party to merri- 
ment, and behaving with some rudeness to one of the 
young ladies of the chorus, who out of sheer modesty van- 
ishes into air, springs upon a high rock, talks wildly about 
battles and warlike fame, and finishes by bounding up into 
the air, through which he darts like a rocket, with a stream 
of brightness in his train, leaving his clothes and lyre upon 
the ground. The act now hurries to a conclusion : Helen 
bids Faust farewell, and throws herself into his arms to 
give him a farewell kiss, but the corporeal part of her van- 
ishes, and only her veil and vest remain in his embrace. 
These, however, also dissolve into clouds, which encircle 
Faust, lift him up on high, and finally fly away with him. 
Phorkyas picks up Euphorion's clothes and lyre, and seats 
herself by a pillar in the front of the stage. The leader of 
21 



290 



the chorus, supposing her to be gone for good and all, ex- 
horts the chorus to avail themselves of the opportunity of 
returning to Hades, which they decline, saying, that as they 
have been given back to the light of the day. they prefer 
remaining there, though at the same time well aware that 
they are no longer to be considered as persons. One part 
profess an intention of remaining as Hamadryads, living 
among and having their being in trees ; a second propose 
to exist as echoes : a third, to be the animating spirits of 
brooks ; and a fourth, to take up their abode in vineyards. 
After this declaration of their respective intentions, the cur- 
tain falls, and Phorkyas, laying aside the mask and veil, 
comes forward in his or her real character of Mephisto- 
pheles, "to comment (this is the stage direction) so far as 
might be necessary, in the way of epilogue, on the piece. 5 ' 

The fourth act is conversant with more familiar matters, 
but its bearing on the main action is equally remote. The 
scene is a high mountain. A cloud comes down and breaks 
apart ; Faust steps forth and soliloquizes ; a seven-mile 
boot walks up; then another; then Mephistopheles ; upon 
whose appearance the boots hurry off, and we see and hear 
no more of them. A dialogue takes place between Faust 
and Mephistopheles, in the course of which it appears that 
Faust has formed some new desire, which he tells Mephis- 
topheles to guess. He guesses empire, pleasure, glory, but 
it is none of them : Faust has grown jealous of the daily 
encroachments of the sea, and Iris wish is step by step to 
shut it out. Just as this wish is uttered, the sound of 
trumpets is heard : the cause is explained by Mephistophc- 
les. Our old friend, the emperor, is advancing to encounter 
a rival, whom his ungrateful subjects have set up. Mephis- 
topheles proposes to Faust to aid him and gain from his 
gratitude the grant of a boundless extent of strand for 
their experiment, to which Faust apparently consents. 
Three spirits are called up by Mephistopheles, in the guise of 



291 



armed men,^ to assist. Faust joins the emperor's army and 
proffers him the aid of his men. The fight commences 
and is won by the magical assistance of Faust. Some 
of the changes of the battle are sketched with great force 
and spirit as seen from the rising ground, where the empe- 
ror, Faust, and Mephistopheles are witnessing it.f The last 
scene of the act is laid in the rebel emperor's tent, where 
several plunderers are busily engaged until disturbed by 
the entrance of the victorious emperor, with four of his 
chiefs, each of whom he rewards with some post of honor. 
Then enters an. archbishop, who reproaches the emperor for 
leaguing himself with sorcerers, and succeeds in extorting 
a handsome endowment for the church. 

The first scene of the fifth and last act represents an aged 
couple (Baucius and Philemon by name) extending their 
hospitality to a stranger. From a few words which drop 
from them, it appears that their cottage stands in the way 
of Faust's improvements, and that, Ahab-like, he has 
already manifested an undue eagerness to possess himself 
of it. The next scene represents a palace, with an exten- 
sive pleasure-garden and a large canal. Faust appears in 
extreme old age. and plunged in thought. The subject of 
his meditations is the cottage of the old couple, which 
" comes him cramping in," and spoils the symmetry of his 
estate. A richly laden vessel arrives, but the cargo fails to 
soothe him; the little property which he does not possess 
would imbitter, he says, the possession of a world. All is 
now deep night, and Lynceus the watchman is on his tower, 

* See Samuel, b. ii. ch. 23, v. 8 — 13. 

t There is hardly a description of any sort in the poem which is 
not placed in the mouth of some one looking down from a com- 
manding point of view upon the scene. This was Sir Walter 
Scott's favorite mode of describing. Several instances are enumer- 
ated in Mr. L. Adolphus" delightful letters on the Author of Wa verley, 
p. 242. 



292 



when a fire breaks out in the cottage of the old couple. 
Mephistopheles, with three sailors belonging to the vessel, 
has set fire to the cottage, and the old couple perish in the 
conflagration. Without any immediate connection with 
the foregoing incidents, four grey old women are brought 
upon the stage — Guilt, Want, Care, and Misery — and hold 
an uninteresting conversation with Faust. "YYe have then 
Mephistopheles acting as overseer to a set of workmen 
(earthly as well as unearthly, it Avould seem,) employed in 
consummating Faust's wish of limiting the dominion of the 
waves. I shall give Faust's dying words literally : 

Faust. 

c; A marsh extends along the mountain's foot, infecting all 
that is already won: to draw off the noisome pool — the 
last would be the crowning success ; I lay open a space for 
many millions to dwell upon, not safely, it is true, but in 
free activity : the plain, green and fruitf ul ; men and flocks 
forthwith made happy on the newest soil, forthwith settled 
on the mound's firm base, which the eager industry of the 
people has thrown up. Here within, a land like Paradise : 
there without, the flood may rage up to the brim, and as it 
nibbles powerfully to shoot in, the community throngs to 
close up the openings. Yes, heart and soul am I devoted 
to this wish : this is the last resolve of wisdom. He only 
deserves freedom and life, who is daily compelled to con- 
quer them for himself : and thus here, hemmed round by 
danger, bring childhood, manhood, and old age, their well- 
spent years to a close. I would fain see such a busy multi- 
tude. — stand upon free soil with free people. I might 
then say to the moment — 1 Stay, thou art so fan* ! ' The 
trace of my earthly days cannot perish in centuries. In the 
presentiment of such exalted bliss. I now enjoy the most 
exalted moment. 



293 



(Faust sinks back; the Lemures take %%m up and place 
him upon the ground.) 

. Mephistopheles. 

iNb pleasure satisfies him, no happiness contents him ; 
so he is ever in pursuit of changing forms; the last, the 
worst, the empty moment, the poor one wishes to hold it 
fast. He who withstood me so vigorously ! Time has ob- 
tained the mastery ; here lies the greybeard in the dust ! 
The clock stands still ! 

Chorus. 

Stands still! It is as silent as midnight, The index 
hand falls/' 

The angels descend, and a contest ensues between them 
and Mephistopheles, backed by his devils, for the soul of 
Faust. It is eventually won by the angels, who succeed by 
exciting the passions and so distracting the attention of 
Mephistopheles.. They fly off, and he is left soliloquizing 
thus : — 

Mephistopheles (looking round). 

But how % whither are they gone % Young as you are, 
you have over-reached me. They have flown heavenwards 
with the booty; for this they have been nibbling at this 
grave! a great singularly precious treasure has been 
wrested from me ; the exalted soul which had pledged itself 
to me, this have they cunningly smuggled away from 
me. To whom must I now complain? Who will re- 
gain my fairly won right for me ? Thou art cheated in thy 
old days ; thou hast deserved it ; matters turn out fearfully 
ill for thee. I have scandalously mismanaged matters ; a 
great outlay, to my shame, is thrown away ; common desire, 
absurd amorousness, take possession of the out-pitched 



294 



devil. And if the old one, with all the wisdom of experi- 
ence, has meddled in this childish, silly "business, in troth, 
it is no small folly which possesses him at the close." 

The last scene is headed — " Mountain denies — Forest — 
Rock — Desert." The characters introduced are Anchor- 
ites, Fathers, Angels, and a band of female Penitents, 
amongst whom we recognize Margaret rejoicing over the 
salvation of Faust. The verses placed in then mouths are 
often very beautiful, but have little connection with each 
other and no reference to a plot. 

I will now add what has transpired as to the circum- 
stances under which the continuation was composed. The 
first scene (down to p. 63 of the original) and the whole of 
the third act (the Helena) were published during Goethe's 
lifetime, in the last complete edition of his works. His 
views in publishing the Helena were explained in the Kunst 
und Alterthum by himself. The following extract applies 
to the general plan of the continuation : " I could not but 
wonder that none of those who undertook a continuation 
and completion of my Fragments (the First Part) had 
lighted upon the thought seemingly so obvious, that the 
composition of a Second Part must necessarily elevate itself 
altogether away from the hampered sphere of the First, and 
conduct a man of such a nature into higher regions, under 
worthier circumstances. How I, for my part, had deter- 
mined to essay this, lay silently before my own mind from 
time to time, exciting me to some progress ; while from all 
and each, I carefully guarded my secret, still in hope of 
bringing the work to the wished-for issue." 

I am also enabled to state in his own words the manner 
in which this wished-for issue -was brought about: 

" I have now arranged the Second Part of Faust, which, 
during the last four years. I have taken up again in earnest, 
filled up chasms and connected together the matter I had 
ready by me. from beginning to end. 



295 



' ; I hope I have succeeded in obliterating all difference 
between Earlier and Later. 

" I have known for a long time what I wanted, and even 
how I wanted it, and have borne it about within nie for so 
many years as an inward tale of wonder — but I only exe- 
cuted portions which from time to time peculiarly attracted 
me. The Second Part, then, must not and could not be so 
fragmentary as the First. The reason has more claim upon 
it, as has been seen in the part already printed. It has 
indeed at last required a most vigorous determination to 
work up the whole together in such a manner that it could 
stand before a cultivated mind. I, therefore, made a firm 
resolution that it should be finished before my birthday. 
And so it was : the whole lies before me, and I have only 
trifles to alter. And thus I seal it up ; and then it may in- 
crease the specific gravity of my succeeding volumes, be 
they what they may. 

" If it contains problems enough, (inasmuch as, like the 
history of man, the last solved problem ever produces a 
new one to solve.) it will nevertheless please those who 
understand by a gesture, a wink, a slight indication. They 
will find in it more than I could give. 

' ; And thus is a heavy stone now rolled over the summit 
of the mountain, and down on the other side. Others, how- 
ever, still lie behind me, which must be pushed onwards, 
that it may be fulfilled which was written, ' Such labor hath 
God appointed to man.' " — (Letter 'to Meyer, elated Weimar, 
July 20th, 1831.) 

I copy this from Mrs. Austin's Characteristics, in which 
two other interesting passages, relating to the same subject, 
occur. The following is translated from the Bibliotheque 
Universelle, of Geneva : — 

t; Having once secured complete tranquillity on this head, 
(his will) Goethe resumed his usual habits, and hastened to 
put the last hand to his unpublished works ^ either to pub- 



296 



lisli them himself, if heaven should grant him two or three 
years more of life, or to put them in a condition to be in- 
trusted to an editor, without burdening him with the re- 
sponsibility of the corrections. He began with the most 
pressing. The Second Part of Faust was not finished ; 
Helena, which forms the third act, had been composed 
more than thirty years before, with the exception of the 
end, which is much more recent, and which certainly does 
not go back further than 1825. The two preceding acts 
had just been finished — there remained the two last. 
Goethe composed the fifth act first ; then, but a few weeks 
before Iris death, he crowned his work by the fourth. This 
broken manner of working was, perhaps, not always his ; 
but it is explained in this case by the care he took to con- 
ceive his plan entire before he began to execute it ; to 
reflect upon it, sometimes for a long series of years, and 
to work out sometimes one part, sometimes another, ac- 
cording to the inspiration of the moment. He reserved to 
himself the power of binding together these separate mem- 
bers in a final redaction — of bringing them together by the 
necessary transitions, and of throwing out all that might 
injure the integrity of the poem. Thus it happens that in 
the manuscripts relating to Taust, there are found a great 
number of poems, written at different periods, which could 
not find place in the drama, but which we hope may be 
published in the miscellaneous works." — Characteristics of 
'Goethe, vol. hi. pp. 87, 88.)=* 

The Chancellor von MUller, in his excellent little work 

* This account is confirmed by Falk r s story of the Walburgis 
Sack ; and also by the following anecdote, communicated to me in 
a private letter by M. tie Schlegel : — " Ce poeme, des son origine, 
etait condamne a ne rester qu'un fragment. Mais quoiqu'on juge 
de Pensemble. les details sont admirables. Ceci me rappelle une 
anecdote que je tiens du celebre medecin Zimmerman, fort lie avec 
Goethe dans sa jeunesse ; Fauste avait ete annonce de bonne heure. 



297 

entitled Goethe in seiner Praktisclien Wirhsamheit. thus 
describes the conclusion of Faust, and (what is not less 
interesting) the events immediately preceding it: — 

8 When Goethe had to bear the death of his only son 3 
he wrote to Zelter thus : — ; Here, then, can the mighty 
conception of duty alone hold us erect. I have no other 
care than to keep myself in equipoise. The body must, the 
spirit will ; — and he who sees a necessary path prescribed 
to his will, has no need to ponder much.' 

" Thus did he shut up the deepest grief within his breast, 
and hastily seized upon a long-postponed labor, ; in order 
entirely to lose himself in it.' In a fortnight, he had nearly 
completed the fourth volume of his life, when nature 
avenged herself for the violence he had done her: the 
bursting of a blood-vessel brought him to the brink of the 
grave. 

He recovered surprisingly, and immediately made use 
of his restored health to put his house most carefully in 
order ; made all his testamentary dispositions as to his 
works and manuscripts, with perfect cheerfulness, and ear- 
nestly employed himself in fully making up his account 
with the world. 

But in looking over his manuscripts it vexed him to 
leave his Faust unfinished : the greater part of the fourth 
act of the Second Part was wanting : he laid it down as a 
law to himself to complete it worthily, and, on the day 
before his last birthday, he was enabled to announce that 
the highest task of his life was completed. He sealed it 
under a tenfold seal, escaped from the congratulations of 
friends, and hastened to revisit, after many, many years 
the scene of his earliest cares and endeavors, as well as of 
the happiest and richest hours of his life." 

et Ton. s'attendait alors a le voir paraitre prochainement. Zimmer- 
man, se trouvant a Weimar, demanda a son ami des nouvelles de 
cette composition. Goethe apporla un sac rempli de petits chiffons 
de papier. II le vuida sur la table et dit : ' Voila mon Fauste. : : * 



298 



In relation to my Article on the Second Part of Faust, 
in the Foreign Quarterly Review (in which most of the 
foregoing abstract, interspersed with translated specimens, 
appeared), some of my German friends blamed me for not 
putting in the plea of age for the author. I have done this 
most effectually now : and the pleas of sickness and sorrow 
might also be supported, if necessary. Indeed, after reading 
the above extracts, the wonder is. not that symptoms of 
decaying power are here and there discernible, but that the 
poem, under such circumstances, should have been com- 
pleted at all : and we may well say of Faust and its author, 
(as Longinus said of Homer and the Odyssey.) though the 
work of an old man. it is yet the work of an old Goethe. 

Another set have censured me for my skeptical and 
superficial notions of the plot, which is said to hide a host 
of meanings. My only answer is, that I cannot see them, 
and have never yet met with any one who could, though I 
studied the poem under circumstances peculiarly favorable 
to the discovery. None of the German critics, to the best 
of my information, have yet dived deeper than myself ; the 
boldest merely venture to suggest that Faust's salvation or 
justification, without any apparent merit of his own, is in 
strict accordance with the purest doctrines of our faith : 
and that, though he suffered himself to be seduced into 
wickedness, his mind and heart remained untainted by the 
Mephistophelian philosophy to the last. This view of the 
poetical justice of the catastrophe was eloquently expounded 
by Dr. Franz Horn, in a long conversation which I had 
with him on this subject in August last (1833). 

Tasso tells us, in a letter to a friend on the Jerusalem, 
that when he was beyond the middle of the poem, and he 
began to consider the strictness of the times, he began also 
to think of an allegory, as a thing which ought to smooth 
every difficulty. The allegory which he thought of, and 
subsequently gave out as the key to the more recondite 



299 

beauties of liis production, was this : c; The Christian army, 
composed of various princes and soldiers, signified the 
natural man, consisting of soul and body, and of a soul 
not simple, but divided into many and various faculties. 
Jerusalem, a strong city, placed on a rough and moun- 
tainous tract, and to which the chief aim of the army is 
directed, figures civil or public felicity, while Godfrey him- 
self represents the ruling intellect ; Einaldo, Tancred. and 
others, being the inferior powers of the mind, and the sol- 
diers, or bulk of the army, the body. The conquest, again, 
with which the poem concludes, is an emblem of political 
felicity : but, as this ought not to be the final object of a 
Christian man, the poem ends with the adoration of God- 
frey : it being thereby signified that the intellect, fatigued 
in public exertions, should finally seek repose in prayer, 
and in contemplating the blessings of a happy and eternal 
life/' 

What Tasso did for the Jerusalem in this matter, I can 
conceive it quite possible the commentators may do for the 
Second Part of Faust ; but that they will thereby greatly 
elevate its poetical character, connect it with the Fust Part, 
or prove it an apt solution of the problem, I doubt. As the 
Prologue in Heaven was not added until 1807 or 1808, my 
own opinion is, that Goethe's plot had no more original 
existence than Tasso's allegory. 

Mr. Coleridge is reported to have expressed himself as 
follows : — 

• : The intended theme of the Faust is the consequences 
of a misology, or hatred and depreciation of knowledge, 
caused by an originally intense thirst for knowledge baffled. 
But a love of knowledge for itself, and for pure ends, would 
never produce such a misology, but only a love of it for 
base and unworthy purposes. There is neither causation 
nor progression in the Faust : he is a ready-made conjurer 
from the very beginning ; the incredulus odi is fel^ from the 



300 



first line. The sensuality and the thirst after knowledge 
are unconnected with each other. Mephistopheles and 
Margaret are excellent; but Faust himself is dull and 
meaningless. The scene in Auerbach's cellars is one of 
the best, perhaps the very best ; that on the Brocken is also 
fine ; and all the songs are beautiful. But there is no whole 
in the poem : the scenes are mere magic-lantern pictures, 
and a large part of the work is to me very flat. The Ger- 
man is very pure and fine." — (Table Talk, vol. ii. p« 114.) 



APPENDIX, NO. II. 

BEIXG 

AN HISTORICAL NOTICE 

OF 

THE STORY OF FAUST, 

XtCD THE VARIOUS PRODUCTIONS IX ART AND LITERA- 
TURE THAT HATE GROWN OUT OF IT. 

During a late visit to Germany (1833), it was one of my 
amusements to inquire at all the libraries to which I could 
procure access, for books relating to Faust or Faustus : and 
though the number was far from trifling, it cost me no 
great labor to acquire a general notion of the contents of 
most of them, and write down what bore upon my own 
peculiar study, or seemed any way striking or new. I had 
made considerable progress in the arrangement of the ma- 
terials thus collected, when Brockhaus' Historisches Taschen- 
buch (Historical Pocket-book), for 1S34, arrived, containing 
an article entitled Die Sage vom Doctor Faust, by Dr. Stieg- 
litz, (already known for an instructive article on the same 
subject*); in which, after a brief history of the hero himself, 
all the compositions of every sort, that (to the writer's 

* * The article in F. Schlegel's Deutsches Museum, referred to in my 
First Edition- 



302 



knowledge) have grown out of the fable, are enumerated. 
The narrow limits of a Taschenbueh restricted Dr. Stieg- 
litz to giving little more than a bare list of title-pages ; but 
this list has proved so extremely useful in indicating where 
almost every sort of information was to be had, that I think 
it right to avow beforehand the extent of obligation he has 
laid me under. 

Before beginning the life of Faust, some of his biogra- 
phers have thought it necessary to determine whether he 
ever lived at all ; and, were we to adopt the mode of rea- 
soning so admirably illustrated in Dr. Whately's Historic 
Doubts concerning the existence of Napoleon, we must 
unavoidably believe that there never was such a person, 
but that the fable was invented by the monks to revenge 
themselves on the memory of Faust, the printer, who had 
destroyed their trade in manuscripts.* But if we are 
content with that sort of evidence by which the vast 
majority of historical incidents are established, we shall 
arrive at a much more satisfactory conclusion concerning 
him. Melancthon knew him personally ; f he is spoken of 
by other immediate contemporaries : and I have now before 
me a chain of biographical accounts, reaching from the 
time during which he is supposed to have flourished, down 
to that at which I write. 

Johann (or John) Faust for Faustus), then, according to 
the better opinion, was born at Knndlingen, within the ter- 
ritory of Wurteinberg; J of parents low of stock (as Mar- 

* It has been contended that the very name is an invented one ; 
the notion being that it was given to a magician — ob faustum in 
rebus peractu difficilimis successum. Yolney's absurd mode of ac- 
counting for a far higher name must be fresh in every body ; &- 
recollection. 

f So says the Conversations-Lexicon ; but Dr. Stieglitz is silent 
on the point. 

$ Anhalt and Brandenbnrgh also claim the honor of bis birth. 



303 



low expresses it), some time towards the end of the fif- 
teenth century. He must not be confounded with Faust (or 
Fust) the printer, who flourished more than half a century 
before.^ He was bred a physician, and graduated in medi- 
cine, but soon betook himself to magic as the better art for 
rising of the two. In this pursuit he is said to have spent 
a rich inheritance left him by an uncle. The study of 
magic naturally led to an acquaintance with the devil, with 
whom he entered into a compact substantially the same as 
that cited (see note 54) in a note. In company with an 
imp or spirit, given him by his friend Satan, and attending 
on him in the guise of a black dog, he ranged freely 
through the world, playing orY many singular pranks upon 
the way. Xo doubt, however, he enjoys the credit of a 
great deal of mischief he had no hand in, just as wits like 
Jekyl or Sheridan have all the puns of their contempora- 
ries to answer for. "Shortly (says Gorres) Faustus ap- 
peared conspicuous in history as the common representa- 
tive of mischievous magicians, guilty of all kind of dia- 
blerie. Their sins, throughout centuries, were all laid at 
his door : and when the general faith, falling as it were to 
pieces, divided into ferocious schisms, it found a common 
point of approach in a man who, during his frequent tours, 
and his intercourse with all ranks of people, had boasted of 
his infernal connections and influence in the nether lands." f 
Faust appears to have travelled mostly in a magic man- 
tle, presenting himself in the cities he lighted on as a trav- 
elling scholar (Fahrender Scholast). a very common sort of 
vagabond in the middle ages. TTe* trace him through 
Ingolstadt (where he is said to have studied). Prague, Erfurt, 
Leipsic, and Wittenberg, but cannot say with certainty what 
other places he visited in Iris tours. " Aboui 1560 (says Mr. 

* A distinct title is assigned to each in the Conversations-Lexicon . 
The printer is supposed to have died of the plague in 1466. 
T Volkibvcher, as translated by Mr. Roscoe. 



304 



Carlyle, in a short note about liirn in the Foreign Quarterly 
Review, No. xvi.) his term, of thauniaturgy being over, he 
disappeared ; whether under a feigned name, by the rope of 
some hangman, or frightfully torn in pieces by the devil 
near the Tillage of Rimlich, between twelve and one in the 
morning, let every reader judge for himself/' I am not 
aware that there is any authority at all for the above very 
injurious insinuation, nor has Mr. Carlyle followed the best 
as to the date of Faust's disappearance. Nothing authentic 
was heard of him for nearly thirty years before. One 
anecdote, corroborative of the commonly received notion of 
his death, is worth recording. Neuman* relates, that when, 
during the Thirty Years' War, the enemy broke into 
Saxony, a detachment was quartered at a village, called 
Breda, on the Elbe. The magistrate of the village sought 
out the commander, and informed him that his house had 
obtained a high celebrity through Faust's horrible death in 
it, as the blood-besprinkled walls still testified. At this 
information the conquerors stood astounded, and, soon 
taking the alarm, endeavored to save themselves by flight. 

Faust had undoubtedly a disciple named Wagner, the son 
of a clergyman at Wasserburg. The name of Wagner also 
figures, as editor, on the title-pages of some works on 
magic, attributed to Faust. 

The most remarkable thing about this fable is its almost 
universal diffusion. It spread rapidly through France,. * 
Italy, Spain, England, Holland, and Poland, giving birth to 
numerous fictions, some of a high order of poetical merit. 
Amongst others, Calderon's El Magico Prodigioso has been 
attributed to it. St. Cyprian of Antioch was the model 
which Calderon really worked upon, but Goethe has been 
so unequivocally accused of plagiarizing from this play, that 
I shall make a short digression for the purpose of cony eying 
a general notion of the plot. Three scenes have been 

*■ ^Disquisitio de Fausto, $fc. 



1 



305 

translated by Shelley, and though very rarely alluded to, 
they are fully equal to his fragments of Eaust. 

The first scene is the neighborhood of Antioch, where a 
solemnity in honor of Jupiter is in the act of celebration. 
Cyprian, who has begun to see the errors of polytheism, 
appears attended by two of his disciples carrying books. 
As he is meditating over a passage in Pliny relating to the 
nature and existence of God, the Evil One presents himself 
* in the guise of a travelling gentleman who has lost his 
way. They have a dispute of some length, the devil de- 
fending the old superstition, and Cyprian attacking it. The 
devil has the worst of the argument, and makes a pretence 
for withdrawing himself, resolving to seduce Cyprian by 
means of a woman. For this purpose, he selects Justine, 
one of the new converts to Christianity who is living in 
Antioch, under the care of her adopted father, Lysando. * 
She is beloved by Floro and Loelio, who are about to fight 
a duel, when they are interrupted by the accidental presence 
of Cyprian, who undertakes to see the lady, and ascertain 
which of them is favored by her preference. He visits and 
falls in love with her himself, but is not more successful 
than the two young rivals have been ; and his desires are at 
length worked up to such a pitch, that he resolves on mak- 
ing every sacrifice to attain the object of them. Whilst in 
this mood he witnesses a shipwreck-, and offers the solitary 
survivor an asylum in his house. It is the demon, who 
professes himself able to procure Cyprian the possession 
of Justine, and, in testimony of his power, splits a rock 
(penasco) asunder, and discovers her asleep in the centre of 
it. Cyprian is thereby induced to sign with his blood a 
contract for the eventual surrender of his soul, upon condi- 
tion that Justine be secured to him ; which the devil con- 
tracts for in his turn. Tor the furtherance of his views, he 
studies magic, under the devil's instruction, until he has 

* This may remind the reader of Recha, in Nathan the Wise. 

22 



306 



made himself a master of the art. Whilst Cyprian is thus 
accomplishing himself, Justine is beginning to relent, and 
tempted by the devil, suffers amatory emotions to influence 
her to such a degree, that she is on the point of falling, but 
resists, and saves herself by faith. I am tempted to give an 
extract from Shelley's beautiful version of this scene; where 
the evil spirit is tempting the heroine : 

Justine. 

" 'T is that enamored nightingale 
Who gives me the reply ; 
He ever tells the same soft tale 
Of passion and of constancy 
To his mate, who, rapt and fond, 
Listening sits, a bough beyond. 
Be silent, nightingale ! — no more 
Make me think, in hearing thee 
Thus tenderly thy love deplore, — 
If a bird can feel his so, 
What a man would feel for me ? 
And, voluptuous vine ! thou 
Who seekest most when least pursuing, 
To the trunk thou interlaces!, 
Art the verdure which embracest, 
And the weight which is its ruin ; 
No more, with green embraces, vine, 
Make me think on what thou lovest, — 
For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine, 
I fear, lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, 
How arms might be entangled too. 
Light-enchanted sun-flower ! thou 
Who gazest, ever true and tender, 
On the sun's revolving splendor ! 
Follow not his faithless glance 



307 



With thy faded countenance, 
Nor teach my beating heart to fear, 
If leaves can mourn without a tear, 
How eyes must weep ! 0, nightingale, 
Cease from thy enamored tale, — 
Leafy vine, un wreathe thy bower, 
Restless sun-flower, cease to move, — 
Or tell me, all, what poisonous power 
Ye use against me — 

All. 

Love ! love ! love ! " 

The devil, thus foiled in his expectations, can only bring 
Cyprian a phantom resembling her, and maintains that he 
has thereby fulfilled his contract, but in the end is obliged 
to own that he has not : that God — one God — the God of 
Christianity, prevents him from harming the maiden, herself 
a Christian. Cyprian draws his sword upon the devil, who 
is compelled to depart, leaving his intended victim to make 
his peace with God. This he does by becoming on the in- 
stant a complete convert to Christianity, the immediate 
result of which is that he is apprehended and condemned to 
die as a heretic in Antioch. Justine, in the mean time, 
has been exposed to a series of trials through the rivalry of 
Floro and Lrelio, whose jealousy has been exasperated by 
various deceits put upon them by the devil ; and, at the pe- 
riod of Cyprian's condemnation, she is also condemned as a 
heretic. They suffer together after an affecting interview, 
in which their constancy is put to a severe trial, and the 
piece closes (if we except a few expressions of astonishment 
by the bystanders) with the appearance of the demon, 
mounted on a serpent, on high ; who declares himself com- 
manded by God to declare Justine's entire innocence. 

There is a comic by-plot between the inferior characters 
of the piece, with several bustling scenes between Floro, 



308 



Lselio, Lysando, and Justine, but I have only room enough 
for this rude outline. The grand aim of the piece is ob- 
viously to exalt Christianity. 

I would also refer to the histories of Virgilius, a magi- 
cian who long preceded Faust/* in proof that we are not 
loosely to attribute all traditions and fictions which have 
a necromantic doctor for their hero, to the latter. The 
works directly founded on or relating to his histoiy are 
numerous enough to satisfy the most ardent supporter of 
his dignity. Dr. Stieglitz makes the books alone amount 
to 106, and his catalogue is clearly incomplete. For in- 
stance, he does not mention a modern French prose epo- 
pee of some note (I forget the precise title) in three vol- 
umes, published within the last six years; nor the old 
English work of 1594, mentioned by Mi'. Eoscoefas lent 
to him by Mr. Douce ; nor Mr. Roscoe's own volume ; 
nor four out of six of the English dramatic adaptations. 
The Second part of Faust had not appeared when Dr. 
Stieglitz wrote, nor could my own book have reached 
Germany early enough to be counted in his list. I also 

* See Roscoe ? s German Novelists, vol i. p. 257. Paracelsus, Cor- 
nelius Agrippa, Cardanus, Thomas Campanella, Albertus Magnus, 
are enumerated by Dr Stieglitz as early renowed for mysterious 
pursuits, which went by the name of magical ; and we might match 
our own Roger Bacon against any of them. See " The Famous 
Historie of Fryer Bacon, with the Lives and Deaths of the Two 
Conjurors Bungye and Vandermasl," reprinted in 1815. 

t " The Second Report of Doctor John Faustus, containing his Ap- 
pearances, and the Deedes of Wagner, written by an English 
Gentleman, Student in Wittenberg, an University of Germany, in 
Saxony. Published for the Delight of all those which desire Novel- 
ties, by a Friend of the same Gentleman. London, printed by 
Abell JefTes, for Cuthbert Burby, and are to be sold at the middle 
Shop, at Saint Milfred Church by the Stockes, 1594.' 5 



309 



miss Dr. Franz Horn, who has given a detailed and very 
interesting account of the old puppet-show-play.^ 

I proceed to mention the most remarkable of these 
productions. 

First, amongst those of the dramatic order, stand the old 
puppet-plays. Dr. Stieglitz mentions several of these as 
popular in the last century, but gives only a general ac- 
count of them. I therefore follow Dr. Franz Horn, who 
is speaking of a representation which he witnessed himself 
about the year 1807. 

The first scene represents Faust sitting in his study with 
a large book before him, in much the same attitude in which 
he is represented by Mario w and Goethe. After seme 
reflections on the vanity of knowledge, he steps into the 
magic circle and conjures up the devils, for the purpose, it 
would seem, of selecting one of them for his slave. He 
questions each in turn as to his comparative swiftness, and, 
after rejecting one by one those who merely profess to be as 
swift as air, arrows, plagues, &c, he chooses the one who says 
he is as swift as the thoughts of men. "In later versions," 
says Dr. Horn, Faust is made to choose the devil who is 
as swift as the transition from good to evil." Faust is in- 
terrupted by the entrance of Wagner, who is represented as 
a lively sort of person apeing his master. Then enters 
Kasperl, the Mr. Merryman of the piece, who soon throws 
Wagner into the shade. Indeed, on the hiring of Kasperl 
as Faust's servant by Wagner, which takes place after a hu- 
morous dialogue between the two, Wagner drops out of 
view, and Kasperl figmes as the only attendant upon Faust. 
So soon as Kasperl is left alone, he is driven by curiosity 
to peep into Faust's Book of Magic, and succeeds with much 

*In his Freundliche Sckriften (Th. 2), and also in his Poesie und 
Beredsamkeit. §'c. vol. 2. p. 263. At p. 258, he gives a short account 
of the old puppet-play of Don Juan, whom he calls, in another work, 
the antithesis of Faust. 



310 



difficulty in spelling out two words : Berlik, a spell to call 
up devils, and BerluJc, a spell to send them away. He forth- 
with puts his new knowledge to the test, and amuses him- 
self by repeating the words so rapidly one after the other, 
that it is only by the utmost exertion of their activity that 
the devils can keep pace with him and obey the word of 
command. In the end, however, he gets a knock-down 
blow or rebuff, which closes the scene. 

Faust is next represented as anxious to enter into a com- 
pact with the devil, with the view of adding to his own 
influence upon earth. The compact is ready, and Faust is 
bringing ink to subscribe it, when the devil with a laugh 
explains to him that his own proper blood will be required. 
He complies, and opens a vein in his hand : the blood forms 
itself into the letters H. F. (Homo, fuge.) and the warning 
is followed up by the appearance of a guardian-angel, but 
in vain. Mephistopheles, who had retreated before the 
angel, reappears ; and a raven flies off with the paper, now 
subscribed by Faust, in its beak. 

The only use Faust makes of his newly acquired power, 
is to wander from place to place playing tricks. The pal- 
ace of an Italian duke is the scene of all those which are 
represented in this show; where he calls up Samson, 
Goliath, Solomon, Judith, &c, &e.,for the amusement of the 
duchess. He is thus growing into high favor with her, when 
the duke, whether from jealousy or from some other cause 
which does not appear, makes an attempt to poison Mm, 
and Faust prudently moves off. I must not forget to 
mention that Kasperl is as facetious as usual during their 
sojourn in Italy, but on his master's sudden flight, he ap- 
pears reduced to the most melancholy condition by solitude. 
For company's sake he invokes a devil, and embraces it with 
the utmost warmth of arFection when it appears. This 
devil is touched by his situation, promises to convey him 
back to Germany, and advises him to apply for the place of 



311 



watchman when there. Kaspar ^ thanks him heartily for 
his flattering advice, but modestly declares that he cannot 
sing : to which the devil replies, that the watchmen in Ger- 
many are not required to sing better than they can. 

Faust is now again in his Fatherland, but his term is 
nearly expired, and he whiningly asks the devil, who by the 
contract is always to speak the truth, whether it be yet 
possible for him to come to God. The devil stammers out 
a soft, ' : I know not," and flies trembling away. Faust 
kneels down to pray, but his devotions are interrupted by 
the vision of Helen, sent by the Evil One to prevent him 
from relapsing into faith. He yields to the temptation, and 
all hope is at an end. 

It is now the night of the catastrophe. As the clock 
strikes nine, a voice from above calls to Faust : Bereite dick, 
— Prepare thyself; and shortly afterwards the same voice 
exclaims: Du bist angeHagt, — Thou art arraigned. It 
strikes ten, and as Kasperl (in his capacity of watchman) 
calls the hour, the voice exclaims : Du bist gerichtet, — Thou 
art judged. "Thus then," (says Franz Horn.) c: no retreat 
is any longer possible, for the judgment (Urtheil not 
Verwiheil) is passed, and, though not yet pronounced, still 
quite clear to the foreboding spirit." On the stroke of mid- 
night; the voice calls for the last time : Du bist auf eicig ver- 
dararat. — Thou art damned to all eternity ; and, after a short 
monologue, Faust falls into the power of the Evil One. 
The piece concludes with another exhibition of buffoonery 
by Kaspar, who comes upon the stage just as his master is 
borne off. 

None of the other puppet-show plays, of which we have 
any accurate account, differ materially from the above. 

The pantomimes founded on Faust are said to be numer- 
ous, but I have found it impossible to acquire more than a 

* Dr. Horn spells the name sometimes KasperL and sometimes 
Kaspar. 



312 



very vague and hearsay knowledge of them, nor perhaps is 
a more particular knowledge desirable. Only two produced 
at Leipzig in 1770 and 1809, and one produced at Vienna 
in 1779, are recorded by Dr. Stieglitz; but Mr. "Winston, the 
Secretary to the Garrick Club, a gentleman remarkably well 
versed in dramatic history, has obligingly supplied me with 
a copy of the following three entries in his own private 
catalogue of performances : — 

" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, with the Masques of the Dei- . 
ties, produced at Drury Lane, in 1724. Published in Oct. 
1724. By Thurmond, a Dancing-master. Pantomime. 

"Harlequin Dr. Faustus, 1766 ; a revival of the last, with 
alterations by Woodward. 

M Harlequin Dr. Faustus. or the Devil will have his Own. 
Pantomime. 1793." 

Marlow's jjlay * seems to be the earliest regular drama 
founded on the fable ; one by Mountfort, also an English- 
man, the next.f A play extemporised by a company of 
actors at Mainz, in 1746. is the first of which any thing cer- 
tain is recorded in Germany, t Since Marlow's time, some 
thirty or forty dramatic fictions (it is impossible to fix the 

* It was acted in 1594 by the Lord Admiral's servants. From 
Mr. Collier's Annals of the Stage (vol. iii. p. 126), it appears that 
a considerable portion of Marlow's play, as it has come down to 
us, is the work of other hands. The earliest known edition is 
that of 1604; but it must have been written some time before, as 
it is supposed to have suggested " The Honourable History of Friar 
Bacon and Friar Bungay," published in 1594, by Greene. See 
Collier, vol. iii. p. 159, and Dyce's Edition of Greene's Works. 
Marlow's Faustus has been translated into German by W. Mul- 
ler, with a Preface by von Aniim, one of editors of the Wunder- 
horn. 

t Life and Death of Dr. Faustus, by TV". Mountfort, brought 
out at Queen's Theatre, Dorset Gardens; published in 4to. 1697. 

$ Neuman, Disquis. de Fausto, says generally that it was dra- 
matized in the seventeenth century. 



313 



precise number) have been founded on it. The great ma- 
jority of these have been elicited by Goethe's ; Maler Miiller, 
and two or three others, undoubtedly preceded him, so far 
at least as publication is concerned : * but the designs differ 
widely, and no one, after reading Miiller's, will suspect 
Goethe of borrowing much from it. There is considerable 
power in the soliloquies, and the scene in which the em- 
blems of Wealth, Power, Pleasure, and Glory, are in turns 
exhibited to Faust, is very finely conceived ; but the greater 
part is occupied by tedious colloquies between subordinate 
characters, and the plot has not time to develope itself 
before the Fragment concludes. There are two or three 
points of imperfect analogy, which I will name. 

The first scene, instead of representing the Lord wager- 
ing with Mephistopheles that he cannot seduce Faust, rep- 
sents Lucifer wagering with Mephistopheles that no truly 
great (that is, firm and steadfast) man, is to be found upon 
earth. Mephistopheles undertakes to prove that Faust is 
such a one ; so that in Goethe's drama we have Mephisto- 
pheles depreciating, and in Miiller's exalting, the character 
of Faust. Again — Wagner makes his first entrance dur- 
ing one of Faust's soliloquies, which he breaks off ; and a 
Margaret is represented as conversing with her lover from 
her window in this manner : — 

" KOLBEL. 

"Margaret, my charmer, my angel! Oh, that I were 
above there, in thy arms ! 

Margaret. 

"Hush! I hear my sister; my uncle coughs. Come 
round to the other window, and I have something more to 
say to you. 

* Johann Faust, an allegorical Drama in five Acts, was pub- 
lished at Munich, in 1775. As to the chronological history of 
Goethe's Faust, see ante, p. 197, note. 



314 



KOLBEL. 

With all my heart, love." 

There is no want of charity in supposing that this love 
adventure ended much in the same manner as that recorded 
by Goethe; and the expressions strongly resemble those. 
ante, p. 143. Some similarity in the soliloquies was to be 
anticipated, as they necessarily turn upon the same topics 
of discontent, but there is one reply made by Midler's 
Faust to the Devil, which bears so close a likeness to one 
placed by Goethe in his mouth (ante, p. 61.) that I shall 
quote it also as it stands : — 

' : Faust. 

' ; Know'st thou, then, all my wishes? 

Sixth Devil. 
" — And will leave them in the consummation far belrhid. 

Faust. 

c; How ! if I required it, and thou wert to bear me to the 
uppermost stars, — to the uppermost part of the uppermost, 
shall I not bring a human heart along with me, which in its 
wanton wishes will nine times surpass thy flight ? Learn 
from me that man requires more than God and Devil can 
give." 

Previous to the publication of Faust's Leben dramatist rt. 
(the piece I quote from,) Miiller had published (in 1776) 
a Fragment entitled, " A Situation out of Faust's Life." It 
presents nothing remarkable. 

Amongst the writers who have followed Goethe's in 
writing poems, dramas, or dramatic scenes about Faust, are 
Leirz. Schreiber, Klinger, von Soden, Schiuk, von Cham- 



315 



isso, Yoigt, Schone, Berkowitz, Klingemann, Grabbe, Hol- 
tei. Harro Hairing, Rosenkranz, Hofmann, Bechstein, and 
Pfizer ; without reckoning those who have published anony- 
mously. 

Lessing. it is well known, had drawn up two plans for a 
drama upon Faust ; he has only left us one fragment of a 
scene. This has been translated by Lord F. L Egerton, 
and appended to his translation of Goethe's Faust. Mad- 
ame de Stael suggests that Goethe's plan was borrowed 
from it. and she is probably right as regards the Prologue 
in Heaven. The only difference is that Lessing's is a Pro- 
logue in Hell, where one of the attendant spirits proposes 
to Satan the c . luction of Faust, who assents and declares 
the plan of a feasible one. on being informed that Faust 
has an overweening desire of knowledge. The whole of 
tins fragment would not more than fill two of my pages. 
See, as to Lessing's plans, his Briefe die neueste Literatur 
betreffench Part i. p. 103; the Analecten fur die Literatur, 
Part i. p. 110; and the Second Part of his Theatrical Le- 
gacy. — (JSaehlass.) 

Dr. Stieglitz has no less than four Operas upon his list. 

Of those by Baueiie and von Yoss, I know nothing. 
That by Bernard and Spohr has been received with consid- 
erable applause in Germany, but the plot is mostly made up 
out of the old traditionary stories, and the composer seems 
very rarely to have had Goethe's drama in Ms mind. An 
Opera Seria, entitled Fausto, was also produced at Paris in 
March, 1831, the music by Mademoiselle Louise Berlin: 
this I never saw, nor do I know whether it succeeded or 
not. The Ballet of Faust, imported last year (1832) must 
be fresh in every body's recollection ; the descent scene (as 
I can personally testify) had a fine etfect in Paris, but it 
was completely spoiled at the Anglo-Italian Opera House 
by the shallowness of the stage. The devils were brought 
so near to the spectators, that the very materials of their 
infernal panoply were clearly distinguishable. 



A Ci Eomantic Musical Drama," called first, "Faustus," 
and afterwards " the Devil and Dr. Faustus," the joint pro- 
duction of Messrs. Soane and Terry, was brought out at 
Drury Lane, in May, 1825; and, by the aid of Stansfi eld's 
scenery and Terry's excellent acting in Mephistopheles, it 
had a considerable run. It was afterwards published by 
Simpkin and Marshal. 

The most successful attempt to set Faust to music is that 
of the late Prince Radzivil. His composition is spoken of 
in the highest terms of approbation by those who have had 
the honor of being present at a rehearsal of it. and I under- 
stand that the Princess (his widow) has printed (or is about 
to print) the whole, though only for circulation amongst 
her friends. Goethe's approval of the attempt has been 
unequivocally expressed. — ( Works, vol. xxx. p. 89.) 

It appears from the correspondence between Goethe and 
Zelter (vol. ii. pp. 424, 429), that Zelter once undertook to 
write music for Faust by the desire of the author; nor 
must I forget to mention that Goethe's Faust has been 
adapted to the stage by Tieck. It was first acted in its 
altered state at Leipzig and Dresden on the 28th August. 
1829, the anniversary of Goethe's eightieth birthday, and is 
now a stock-piece at the principal theatres. A good deal 
of discussion took place at the time as to the fitness of the 
poem for theatrical representation at all ; * though Schlegel, 
who considers the question in his lectures on the drama 
(Lect. 15) and decides in the negative, appears to have set 
the question at rest. 

All the Commentaries I had been able to obtain were 
also named in my first Edition. I am happy to find that 
I had, even then, all which have any known existence but 
two: Wolf's Lectures, delivered at Jena, in 1829, never 
printed; and M. von Arnirn's Preface to the German 



* See Bechstein's Pamphlet, published at Stuttg-ardt, 1831. 



317 



Translation of Harlow. To make this appendix complete, 
I shall here recapitulate the whole of them : 

Ueher Goethe's Faust: Yorlesungen von Dr. Schubarth. 
Berlin, 1830. 

Ueber Goethe's Faust und dessen Fortsetzung, nebst ei- 
nem Anhange yon dem ewigen Juden, Leipzig, 1824. 

Aestketische Yorlesungen Ueber Goetke's Faust, &c, von 
Dr. Hinricks, Halle, 1825. 

Ueber Calderon's Tragoedie vom TVunderthatigen Ma- 
gus : Ein Beitrag zum Verstandniss der Fautiscken Fabel, 
von Karl Bosenkrantz, Halle und Leipzig, 1829. 

Ueber Erklarung und Fortsetzung des Faust im Allge- 
meinen, &c, yon K. Bosenkrantz. Leipzig, 1831. 

Doctor Faustus, Tragodie you Marlowe, &c. : aus dem 
Engliscken iibersetzt von AY. Miiller. Mit einer Yorrede 
von Ludwig von Arnim, Berhn, 1808. 

Herold's Stimme zu Goetke's Faust, von C. F. G 1, 

Leipzig, 1831. 

Zur Beurtkeiiung Goetke's, mit Beziekung auf verwandte 
Literatur und Kunst, von Dr. Sckubartk, 1820: a work in 
two volumes, of which a large part is occupied witk Faust. 

Goetke aus personLickem Umgange dargestellt, von Falk : 
the last 110 pages of wkick consist of a Commentary on 
Faust. 

Yorlesungen iiber Goetke's Faust, von Dr. Bauck, 1830, 
In Scklegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature, Lect. 15, 
there are a few remarks. Faust also forms tke subject of 
some letters in tke Brief wechsel between Sckiller and 
Goetke, vol. iii. pp. 129 — 141. 

It only remains to mention tke artists wko kave taken 
tke old tradition or tke modern drama of Faust for tkeir 
subject matter. Of tke former class, I know but two worth 
mentioning : one is Bembrandt, wko kas left a kead of 
Faust, and a sketck of kim in kis study, sitting just as 
Goetke has described him, in the midst of books and instru- 



318 



merits, with a magic circle ready drawn and a skeleton half 
hidden by a curtain in the room. The other is van Siehein, 
a Dutch artist, born about 1580. He has left us two 
sketches : a scene between Faust and Mephistopheles, and 
a scene between Wagner and an attendant spirit, Aoerviaiii, 
by name. These really interesting productions are mmute- 
ly described by Dr. Stieglitz, and I have seen a copy of the 
sketch by Rembrandt myself. The pictures in Auerb?/:Vs 
cellars are described, ante, p. 243. 

The i^ustrators of Faust mentioned by Dr. Stieglitz (and 
I know of no others) are : Retzsch, with his English imita- 
tor Moses, and a French imitator, who modestly conceals 
his name : Xauwerk, Xehrlich, Xake, Ramberg, Lacroix 
(for Stapfer s translation),* and Cornelius, whose designs 
were engraved by Ruschweyh, in Rome. Of these, the 
most celebrated are Retzsch and Cornelius. It is quite 
unnecessary to speak of Retzsch, whose fame is now uni- 
versally diffused. Cornelius was formerly at the head of 
the school of painting at Diisseldorf. and is now President 
of the Academy of the Design at Munich. He enjoys the 
reputation of being the first historical painter in Germany, 
and his illustrations of Faust have great merit : but being 
in the largest folio, and three or four pounds in price, they 
are comparatively little known. 



* See Goethe's Post. Works, vol. vi. p. IG9. 



APPENDIX, NO. III. 



Dies iros, dies ilia 
Solvet ssecliun in favilla, 
Teste David cum Sibylla. 

Quantus tremor est futurus, 
Quando Judex est venturus, 
Cuncta stricte discussants ! 

Tuba minim spargens sonum, 
Per sepulchra regionum, 
Coget omnes ante thronum. 

Mors stupebit. et narura. 
Cum resurget creatura, 
Judieanti responsura. 

Liber scriptus proferetur, 
In quo totum continetur, 
Unde mundus judicetur. 

Judex ergo cum sedebit, 
Quidquid latet apparebit, 
Nil inultum remanebit. 

Quid sum miser tunc dictums. 
Quem patronum rogaturus, 
Cum vix jastus sit securas ? 

Eex tremendaB majestatis. 
Qui salvaridos salvas gratis, 
Salva me, Tons pietatis. 



320 



Re cor dare. Jesu pie. 
Quod sum causa tua? viae 
Ne me perdas ilia die. 

Quaerens me. sedisti lassus, 
Redemisti crucem passus : 
Tantus labor non sit cassus. 

Juste judex ultionis, 
Donum fac remissionis, 
Ante diem rationis. 

Ingemiseo tanquam reus, 
Culpa rubet yultus meus : 
Supplicant! puree; Deus. 

Qui Mariam absolvisti, 
Et latronem exaudisti. 
INXilii quoque spem dedisti. 

Preces mea3 non sunt di2nx\ 
Sed tu. bone, fac benign 
Xe perenni cremer igne ! 

Inter oyes locum prtesta. 
Et ab hredis me sequestra, 
Statuens in parte dextra. 

Confutatis maledictis, 
Flammis acribus ad&c&. 
Voca me cum beneoicris. 

Oro supplex. et acclinis. 
Cor contritum quasi cinis : 
Gere coram mei finis. 

Amen, 



)CT -5 1945 




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